Chosen
by Miratete
Summary: Chapter 18: "For Love or For Politics" posted! Calhoun grants Melusine her final wish and Alex tries things the local way. My personal favorite chapter in this story.
1. The Viper's Plot

**Chosen**

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 1: The Viper's Plot**

"**Two hours ago, a German cargo plane headed for San Diego nearly went down in your area," said Duane.**

"**Nearly? That sounds a little anti-climactic."**

-o-o-o-o-o-

Warfield sat on the steps of the cottage, watching Dagger give himself a manicure.

Malloy had Vampire opened up and was cleaning the engine.

Rax sat inside the cottage at the radio where he had been for the past three hours, working his way through a crossword puzzle book. And then he put his pencil down and began listening intently to the broadcast coming in through his headphones. Mayhem noticed his intent expression and went over to the table.

Rax's brow furrowed as his concentration deepened. And suddenly that furrow became a smile. "They're here! It's time!" he announced loudly, sending the others scrambling to their stations. Warfield ran for Manta. Malloy closed up Vampire and started it up. Rax and Dagger ran for the boat docked nearby. Mayhem strolled confidently over to his computer.

Cargo Flight 0717, headed non-stop from Düsseldorf to San Diego, was just about to cross into Brazilian airspace—its crew, the manufacturers of the cargo, and the purchasers of that cargo all completely unaware of the impending danger. Cruising placidly at 35,000 feet, no one ever expected thieves to strike.

Mayhem sat down in front his computer and with a few clicks sent a transmission to a hidden passenger aboard Flight 0717, another little computer, this one with few capabilities. But those few it had were all it needed to bring VENOM's plan to fruition.

Within moments, the plane's engines began to falter, and the craft began an unplanned descent, the engines cutting back in occasionally, just enough to prevent a nosedive. The pilots brought the plane low, where according to procedure the crew made ready to save the cargo from a crash landing, in this case somewhere in the lowlands of Amazonia.

Now airborne, Manta flew behind the cargo plane, Warfield watching as the panicked crew jettisoned their precious cargo from the rear door, parachutes taking it gently to the ground. It was just as Tavisson had told them it would happen.

"Miles, they just sent four crates out the back," called Warfield smugly.

"Keep an eye on those crates. Malloy you too. I'll be right there to help collect them." Mayhem paused at his computer, watching the rapidly scrolling readings flicker though the window. And then he hit the detonation switch for the parasite. "I must be getting soft in my old age," he sighed and headed for Switchblade.

Aboard Flight 0717, a small explosion shook the plane, a minimal blast of fire and debris jetting into the cabin but doing little damage, except to the deadly device of which only a few scraps of melted plastic housing remained. And suddenly the engines came back to life, operating as if nothing had ever happened. The stunned pilots were able to resume normal flight, one that landed at the next airport, half a world away from the original destination, sans cargo.

A fortune in small missile components, originally destined for a weapons manufacturing plant in the California desert, was now floating groundwards. Five VENOM agents were on their way to collect them. In Belem, a buyer waited for said components.

-o-o-o-o-o-

A ringing phone woke Trakker from his afternoon siesta. Like the locals, he and Sector had taken to snoozing during the hottest part of the day. He fumbled his hand underneath the couch where he had left his watch and phone and the contents of his pockets. Only half-awake he flipped it open and put it to his ear. "Hello. Trakker here."

"Matt!" barked Duane Kennedy over the line, waking him further from his nap. "I think we've just found what VENOM is doing down there."

"Go ahead," said Trakker, trying to stifle a yawn. Sector, stretched out in the hammock on the hotel patio, was awake as well and listening closely through the open door.

"Two hours ago, a German cargo plane headed for San Diego nearly went down in your area," said Duane.

"Nearly? That sounds a little anti-climactic."

"The pilots reported that out of the blue all of the engines began to fail, and they would have crashed, had the engines not suddenly started working again. But not after the cargo had been pushed out in an emergency airdrop to save it. The plane went on to land without incident at the airport in Santarem and is awaiting the arrival of an investigation team."

"Ejecting the cargo? That sounds odd."

"Standard procedure for this carrier. Valuable cargo is given a parachute just like the rest of the crew."

"And what cargo was this to rate the first class treatment?"

"Twenty million dollars worth of military computer hardware, destined for a munitions plant near Barstow that manufactures small missiles. The computer cores are made in Germany by a company named Stempel, but the rest of the units are built in the US."

"That's a lot of silicon chips and salsa," said Trakker.

"And that's just the legal value. On the black market, such parts would be worth twice that at least. And that's where we think those parts are headed if VENOM's behind this heist. There are arms companies all over the world that would love to get their hands onto them, companies that Stempel won't sell to because of, shall we say, not wanting weapons in the hands of unfriendly sorts."

"It does sound like the sort of thing VENOM would go after."

"Highly likely."

"All right. We'll see what we can find. Any idea where we should start?"

"I'm sending you some maps that give a probable location for where the plane crew believes the cargo was jettisoned. It was in four crates about a meter square each. If VENOM is after those parts, I'm sure they'll be out there already looking for it. And if they aren't, well, consider salvaging them your good deed for the day."

"Thanks Duane." He closed the phone and lurched to his feet, then opened up his computer. In moments the files were there and displayed on the screen.

"Not too far from here, I see," said Alex, looking at the oval drawn casually in red atop a standard satellite map. "Just an hour or so away by air."

Trakker leaned in, peering at the coordinates, along with the flight path of the airplane. "We'll go check it out in Thunderhawk, but I'm thinking it's not quite time to call in the team yet."

"Agreed. Not at least until we know there are snakes out in the jungle."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Trakker and Sector suited up and ran for Thunderhawk, parked outside their hotel on the outskirts of Belem. Trakker yanked off the tarp covering it as Sector opened the car, a wave of heat rushing from the vehicle as the doors flew upwards. "Ugh...nothing like the noonday sun to keep us cozy here. I'm glad I brought some water along."

"It's missions like these that make me wonder if we should design some lighter-weight suits," Trakker contemplated.

"I just can't imagine us in a seersucker uniforms."

"Don't even say that," he groaned and fought himself not to envision the result.

"We could at least put Gloria in a swimsuit. It would be appropriate to the amphibious nature of her vehicle," he said in a deadpan.

Trakker laughed. "I'm sure we'd all enjoy that."

Once airborne, Trakker turned Thunderhawk in the direction of the indicated possible drop-zone. The urban sprawl of Belem soon gave way to a green maze of rivers, swamps, and patches of forest. The rushing air soon cooled them and the car as they sped high above the flat humid landscape.

-o-o-o-o-o-

It did not take long to find one of the jettisoned crates. Inside the estimated area they quickly spotted a large yellow and white parachute. And there was VENOM. Having cut the crate free of the parachute, they appeared to be dragging it toward a boat anchored in a nearby slough.

But flying low-altitude reconnaissance had its price, and after their pass, Switchblade was airborne and hot on Thunderhawk's trail. Trakker flew evasively, hoping Mayhem would not launch any missiles...the irony of it, considering the contents of the crate.

"Matt, if you can get me down I can spy on them while you keep them distracted," suggested Sector. "Just give me a low altitude bailout when Switchblade can't see me."

"Can do, Alex." Dropping low, Trakker flew hard, putting on some speed to put some distance between himself and Mayhem. And at a bend in the river, where the trees grew tall and close to the water, Sector noticed that they had lost Switchblade for the moment. "I can't see him, old boy."

"Me either. You ready?"

"Jackrabbit! On!"

"That sounds like a 'yes' to me." Trakker decelerated sharply.

Sector undid his seatbelt. "Good luck up there. I'll find out what I can," He said just before bailing from the red jet.

"Good luck to you too. Bring me back a lizard or something," Trakker chuckled over the com-link.

Sector laughed. "If I'm lucky I'll have a whole nest of vipers for you to pick up when the rest of the chaps are here."

Trakker punched the accelerator again and brought Thunderhawk upwards, only to find Manta coming right at him. "Great... looks like Vanessa wants a piece of me too."

"I'll be fine if you want to retreat. Just give me the coordinates of where we saw that parachute and I'll go from there."

"How about I just drop a locator beacon into their midst."

"That works too."

Dodging laser fire, Trakker searched again for the parachute, and on finding it, he launched a beacon into the jungle for Sector to follow. "There you go, Alex. Just follow the bouncing ball. I'm going to drag these two off on a wild goose chase now."

"Right-O, but just don't become a roast goose in the process."

"Same for you too."

"I'll keep you posted."

After eventually losing Manta and Switchblade, Trakker turned back for Belem. "Request satellite link to MASK computer."

A few beeps signaled that the connection had been made. "Interface secured, Proceed," responded the voice of the computer.

"Select the MASK agents most suitable for a mission in northeastern Brazil. Alex Sector already present."

The computer processed information for a moment before revealing its choices: "Selection complete. Recommended personnel..."

"Dusty Hayes. Auto and marine stunt driver. Vehicle codename: Gator. Amphibious vehicle capabilities recommended for Amazon basin location."

"Julio Lopez. Cryptography and analysis specialist. Vehicle codename: Firefly. Aerial reconnaissance may be essential."

"Calhoun Burns. Urban environment and demolitions expert. Vehicle codename: Raven. Amphibious vehicle capabilities recommended for Amazon basin location."

"Selection complete."

"Selection approved. Assemble Mobile Armored Strike Kommand."

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 2: The River Battle**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	2. The River Battle

**Chosen**

**-o-o-o-o-o-**

**Chapter 2: The River Battle**

**He veered again across the water, making a large loop where the channel widened. Skidding to a stop across the river surface, he waited for the round red button on his weapons system to light up, and it did so with a beep. "Here's one for you too, sweetheart," he said, depressing it without any remorse.**

**-o-o-o-o-o-**

Sector ran, flew, and floated his way through the forest, heading for the indicated location. It wasn't often that he got to use the power of his mask, but when the opportunity called for it, the ability was indispensable. And right now it made travel shockingly easy across the difficult, irregular terrain. Ditches, rivers, swamps, and marshes presented no obstacle. The land was sparsely inhabited here. Rhino would have been paralyzed by the lack of roads and dry ground, but a flying man could go anywhere.

Eventually he came to where Rax and Dagger were securing a large wood and plastic crate aboard the flat cargo boat. Mayhem's voice barked over the radio. "He gave us the slip, but I think he was the only one. We only saw one vehicle. But keep alert. I'm sure he's hiding around here somewhere, and more of them always seem to show up."

"Right you are," Sector mused. "There will be more of us on the way, and I'm already here." He floated through the undergrowth to where he could get a better look at the boat.

"I've spotted another parachute," came Warfield's voice. "It's also near a river so you'll be able to bring the boat almost right to it."

"Three out of four," said Dagger. "This is going well."

"Just one more crate to find, and then back to Belem," drawled Rax. "And the sooner the better. These insects are starting to bite! I'm going to get malaria or yellow fever or something."

"So hurry it up, or did you already forget that MASK is here!?" snarled Mayhem.

"We can take care of them, can't we?" asked Malloy optimistically over the com-link. Like Warfield he was out searching for the fallen crates.

"Of course we can! So far there are five of us and one of them, so you'd better hurry up and get to that next crate. The longer we take the more of them we're likely to encounter."

"All right, Mayhem. We're just about done here."

Alex picked up one of the large nutshells at his feet in the undergrowth. "Oh no you aren't..." he grinned.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Matt, come in. This is Alex."

"Well hello. I wasn't expecting to hear back from you so soon. "I only just landed in Belem."

"I wasn't expecting to be calling back so soon. My little spying trip was a visit to the Plot Convenience Playhouse."

Trakker chuckled at Sector's analogy. "So what did you learn?"

Sector repeated the details to Trakker, who listened intently, his mind already working on the next part of the plan. "Well try keep track of them if you can, and if and when they locate all four crates.

"Oh, that shouldn't be too difficult. That locator beacon you dropped seems to have found its way aboard their boat.

"No~! Seriously!?"

"I told you. It's Plot Convenience Playhouse out here."

"Alex, I could kiss you, but the others would get jealous so I won't."

"Speaking of the others, do you have an ETA on the transport? I'm presuming you've called in a team."

"Of course. Three more agents on the way. Dusty and Julio just took off from Boulder Hill and will be collecting Calhoun in Louisville. So they won't be in until tonight."

"The timing should be good then. That boat will take at least a day to get to Belem...maybe longer."

"Exactly. We'll just head them off at the pass tomorrow morning."

"My thoughts too."

"So is it safe for me to come back and pick you up?"

"No need to yet. I'd just let them take care of the recovery process unhindered—let them go retrieve the crates for us."

"You're a regular Tom Sawyer."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Besides, I've still got to catch you a lizard."

"Well good luck out there. Just don't get caught yourself. I'll come get you tonight after the team arrives."

"Thanks, old boy."

-o-o-o-o-o-

The tranquil dawn was broken by a most unpleasant interruption as Mayhem threw a long stream of words at Rax that weren't fit to print. So much for the peaceful sunrise he had been enjoying. With all the expletives edited out, the exchange of dialogue came down to something like this:

"Idiot! How could you miss the turn off for Belem? You're almost all the way to Macapa!"

"Because it was dark out here and the riverbanks all look the same. Nothing's lit. And Malloy was supposed to be watching as well but he was sleeping."

"You were supposed to wake me up when we got close, Rax," Malloy defended himself.

"You didn't tell me to wake you up," Rax countered.

"Yes I did."

"Well maybe you did and I ignored it because most of what you say is a bunch of pointless yapping."

Mayhem shouted at them over the radio so loud it woke Dagger and nearly blew out the speaker.

"Relax, Mayhem. I'll find where we are on the map and turn around. There are a lot of channels in this area so getting back on course should be easy. We'll just be a few hours late getting into Belem."

"No, don't turn around. Just go into Macapa. I'll have Vanessa bring the cargo plane there and we'll pick it up and fly it to Belem."

"Good," and then a mumbled "we should have done that in the first place."

"Any sign of MASK?"

"Not yet."

"All right. Just keep your eyes peeled. I figured they wouldn't attack at night, but now that it's daylight they could be upon us at any moment. They know we're here so I doubt they'll be sleeping in this morning.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Mayhem had been correct in his guess—within the hour MASK was upon them.

As Raven and Gator came across the wide waterway they were met by laser fire. "Watch yourselves! There's a mounted cannon aboard that boat," reported Burns.

The alarm raised, Malloy quickly leapt onto Vampire and took the the air. The motorcycle hybrid needed very little of a runway if any. Immediately he began shooting at the two boats in the water. "Vampire's airborne," called Hayes, swinging between two islands.

"Julio! You're up to bat!"

"I'm on it, Chief!" responded the doctor and in moments, Firefly was clinging to Vampire's tail. Thunderhawk followed, heading straight for the boat.

"And there's Switchblade!" continued Burns. Knowing which agents Mayhem had brought along, they had a good idea as to what vehicles they would be seeing, and had come up with a counteractive battle plan. He drew Switchblade's attention with a few bursts of laserfire.

"Still no sign of Manta, but I know that won't last." Sector flew Thunderhawk in, Trakker bailing from the passenger seat this time. "Spectrum Hanglider, on! The energy field flared around his outstretched limbs and his descent slowed. Gracefully he glided down to the boat's deck. Dagger, the gunner working the cannon, had been so busy shooting at the two boats teasing him he had not noticed the addition of another passenger. He was completely caught off guard when Trakker came up behind him with his hands folded together and hit him in the side of the head, knocking him down. A good spinning kick and he was next sprawled out on the deck. As he staggered to his feet, Trakker simply shoved him overboard.

Rax came out of the pilot's cabin. "Stiletto! Fire!"

Trakker sprang back, the darts whizzing past the point he had stood a moment ago.

It was then that Manta made an entrance. "There's Vanessa," Sector announced. "Fashionably late to the party." Sector buzzed past the flying car, hoping to draw her attention and lure her away. While not much of a fighter pilot himself, all he had to do was to keep Warfield from jumping into one of the other dogfights.

Burns hit the accelerator and barreled for the open water of the river's main channel. Engage VENOM, commandeer the boat and cargo, defend the boat until they could turn it over to the right hands. Trakker tried to keep the objectives down to the necessities given the unpredictable nature of their enemy and the battles they fought with them.

A rapid succession of laserblasts struck the water in a curtain alongside Raven's course. Switchblade was gaining. Time to turn the tables.

Burns decelerated sharply and turned the wheel, Raven spinning twice atop the water. Coming to a stop, he swung the cannons around and the computer locked onto the jet as it passed overhead, and again he fired at Mayhem. None of the hits landed though and Mayhem swung about himself to fire at his opponent.

"Raven! Dive!" commanded Burns as he launched a few more counteractive shots, and the black Corvette dipped beneath the surface of the river, dropping by default to a cruising depth of fifteen feet, a depth just out of range of Switchblade's armaments.

When the targeting computer showed that the jet had passed on by, Burns hit the accelerator and surfaced. The targeting computer beeped again, indicating a shot was lined up and the weapons were ready to fire. "Try this, Mayhem!" Burns hit the round red firing button and from Raven's nose a circular blade with a saw's serrated edge shot into the air, spinning upwards and into Switchblade's body just as Mayhem was turning it around for another attack. Smoke began to billow from the blue jet, and the leader of VENOM made a hasty retreat.

"Switchblade down!" crowed Burns.

"Great! Now come deal with Vanessa. She's not playing nice," said Hayes. "She decided not to chase Alex and instead she wants me." He had planned to jump aboard the boat and assist Trakker in commandeering the craft, but Manta was hard on Gator, firing relentlessly.

"I can't help it if I'm not her type," bemoaned Sector.

"Head for the islands to the south, Dusty," Burns instructed. "I'll sneak up on her between them."

"You've got it!"

Burns watched his map monitor closely, all of their vehicles displayed on it, as well as anything anyone's targeting computer happened to be locked onto. There was Hayes headed into the islands, pushing Gator to the limit, presumably with Manta in the air behind him. While Gator had maneuverability, Raven had speed, and soon he met the two, coming up behind them. "Keep her steady for me a moment, Dusty. I just need a moment to target her." The weapons computer soon had a lock and the twin swivel guns fired, hitting Manta but not hitting anything critical as he had with Switchblade.

But the attack did not go unnoticed. Manta peeled off of the pursuit of Gator, pulled upwards and over in a grand 360 degree loop, and ended up behind both of the MASK boats. Burns remembered Ace's words to him. "I've seen her fly, and she puts all of us to shame." Immediately he began to waver in his course to avoid the laser blasts.

"Cal, the channel splits ahead. I'll go left. You go right," called Hayes.

"No problem. Right fork for me." Burns looked down briefly at his monitor and saw the oncoming division, and when the channel split he veered sharply to the right, as did Warfield.

"She seems to like you better," said Hayes, "so I'm going to head back and help out Matt now."

"Right on. I'll slice Manta up like I did Switchblade." He veered again across the water, making a large loop where the channel widened. Skidding to a stop across the river surface, he waited for the round red button on his weapons system to light up, and it did so with a beep. "Here's one for you too, sweetheart," he said, depressing it without any remorse.

Burns watched as the blade sailed out of Raven's nose, and continued watching as the oncoming Manta executed a perfect corkscrew roll, dancing an aerial ballet around the oncoming disk. His mouth fell open. Ace was right. She did put all of them to shame, on both sides. He hit the accelerator and began to move again.

As she passed on over, her cannons fired at him striking the water and missing Raven by inches.

"Close...but not quite. Now let's see what else I can find for you, Vanessa."

Meanwhile on the boat, Rax still had Trakker pinned down behind the four cargo crates with Stiletto. "Spectrum laser..." He quickly popped up his head to take a shot at Rax. "Fire!"

Rax ducked and the beam missed, hitting the ship's cabin, and Rax answered with a scattering of darts.

"After this, I start carrying a pistol. This is just much too awkward," Trakker told himself.

"Hey, help me get on the boat again!" Dagger called, having caught up to it after Rax had shut off the engine.

Trakker winced. "Dusty, I'm going to be in a heap of trouble soon. Are you anywhere close?"

"I just handed off Manta to Calhoun, but I'm about four miles away."

Trakker made a quick calculation of Gator's top speed in boat mode and estimated how soon he would be there. It wasn't encouraging.

"I can lay down a little cover fire," said Lopez.

"What happened to Malloy."

"Vampire went into boat mode."

"Vampire doesn't have a boat mode," Alex corrected him.

"It does now," the doctor chuckled.

"Heh. Nice," complimented Trakker. "Well I could use something to distract the guys here. Just be careful not to hit the cargo."

Firefly suddenly streaked out of nowhere, a line of laserblasts crossing the water but cutting out just before hitting the boat. It was enough to scare Rax, who ducked back into the cabin, and to make Dagger, half into the boat, jump back into the river.

Trakker breathed a sigh of relief. "That worked, Julio. Can you give me another pass like that? It should buy me enough time for Dusty to get here."

"Sure thing, Chief,"

Burns swung Raven though the channel, hoping that Warfield had not gone off in pursuit of one of the other vehicles. To his relief he spotted her coming back around for another attack, this time from behind. She swung low and cruised overhead, firing from a low elevation.

Again he dodged, and as she passed by he took up the role of the pursuer, chasing her at close to top speed through the river channels between the islands. And it seemed to him that she delighted in leading him down winding difficult passages. "Is she testing me? Or just toying with me?" Burns wondered. Her flight pattern could suggest either.

And suddenly the channel ended, blocked off from the main river by two enormous fallen trees.

"Raven! Dive!" Burns called, hitting the water-brakes at the same time. Hopefully he could slow enough to avoid the branches, or better yet go underneath them, if they didn't reach the bottom of the channel.

But the crowns of the felled trees were wider than the water was deep, their spreading branches resting on the bottom of the channel. He crashed into them but managed to avoid the largest ones. "Damn!" he spat angrily. "Little minx led me right into a trap."

He began to maneuver out, wriggling Raven in reverse and trying to back out of the tangle. Going in had certainly been much easier. And then came a strange sound through the water as more branches came crashing down right on top of him. And then another tree came down right behind him. The branches grabbed Raven and pushed it downwards. "And she closes the trap," he cursed.

For a moment he was seized by the horrible thought that he would be pushed below Raven's operational level. Bruce and Buddie had both warned him that the glass and seals on Raven's chassis were only good to forty feet in depth.

But he reassured himself that this channel was nowhere close to that deep. In fact when Raven came to rest on the silty bottom the depth gauge read twenty-three feet. He tried again to free Raven by rocking it back and forth, but it would not budge more than a few inches in either direction. The trees held him down like two many-fingered hands.

"Guys, Vanessa got me. I'm down and out for this battle."

"All right," said Trakker. "Just sit tight. We're kinda tied up here"

Tied up was right. Trakker was now battling Rax hand-to-hand aboard the boat, the two men throwing punches at each other. Dagger had climbed aboard again and was heading for the cannon. He fired twice at the oncoming orange blur of Firefly, causing the doctor to veer off. And then he swung the cannon around to aim it at Trakker. "I'll blast him, Rax. Just get him off of you."

"Don't, you idiot. You'll hit me or the cargo!" Rax shouted.

"I see the boat now," called Hayes. "Hold onto your tailfeathers, Matt. I'm almost there!"

"Watch out. Dagger's on that cannon again!" And sure enough as Hayes swung past the VENOM boat Dagger aimed at him.

Hayes bent low to the steering wheel and circled the boat, cannon-fire following him.

Suddenly Trakker broke away from Rax and tumbled across the deck. Like a pouncing cat focused only on the target, Dagger whirled around and fired at Trakker, missing the MASK leader but hitting the deck.

At once a single burst of water shot up from the holes in the deck, and at once all four agents realized that the hull had been well breached, and that soon this boat would be headed to the bottom.

"Matt! Get on!" shouted Hayes, maneuvering to the side of the now-sinking ship. Trakker ran across the deck and leapt into Gator. Hayes took off, leaving the two VENOM agents aboard to find their own escape route.

Manta flew overhead—Vanessa coming in to appraise the situation or possibly to chase Firefly. But she took off, leaving the two hapless agents to fend for themselves.

Rax scrambled for Pirahna, parked under a tarp on the deck of the boat, and jumped into the sidecar. He launched it into the water and came back for Dagger, who wrapped his arms around the top of the mini-sub.

The boat gurgled and glubbed and soon disappeared into the Amazon, taking the coveted cargo with it.

"Alex! The boat just sank. Can you call up that homing beacon?"

"I'm on it," he reported. He had landed Thunderhawk in a pasture beside the river and was now working his way through the computer menus to get to the one he needed. "There it is...and...gone..."

"Gone?"

"The beacons are water-resistant, but not waterproof. The water pressure will easily debilitate them."

Trakker's head slumped forward. "Damn." He pulled off his mask and surveyed the area, trying to get an idea in his head of where the boat had cone down at. "All right men. Let's get back to land and take care of any damage."

"I'm going to need a rescue," announced Burns. "I'm sitting on the bottom of the river here held under by several trees."

"How deep? Are you taking on water?"

"I'm only down twenty-three feet according to the depth gauge, and so far I'm not leaking."

"Okay, hang tight. You've got oxygen for two hours and we'll have you freed before then."

"No worries. I'll just read a book or something...work on my tan," he laughed.

"Julio, you good?"

"I just landed next to Alex. We're both fine."

"All right. We're in a lot better shape than VENOM is. They lost Switchblade, Vampire, and half of Piranha."

"And their boat and the cargo," added Hayes.

"Yeah, but we lost it too."

-o-o-o-o-o-

A flash of movement in his peripheral vision caused Burns to look up from his computer screen. There, at the end of Raven's nose, was a diver. The others had gotten down here unexpectedly quickly. It had only been about half an hour since the end of the battle.

And then he realized it wasn't a diver coming through the branches. This was no man...it was only man-shaped.

No, he decided...it was woman-shaped. The visitor appeared female.

She came closer, peering in at him through the glass of Raven's windshield, her golden eyes wide with curiosity.

Burns could only sit and stare, petrified by what was staring back at him.

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 3: Denial**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	3. Denial

**Chosen**

**Chapter 3: Denial**

"**If you don't want to talk about it, then that's fine," said Trakker calmly. "Sometimes that's how we have to deal with things we don't want to accept." After a minute of letting that sink in, he looked over at Burns. "I really was hoping you would tell me, though. There were some rather interesting handprints on Raven's roof and windows. **

-o-o-o-o-o-

The sound of Gator's motor made Burns look up. So that's what scared her off..." The boat slowed and stopped just short of the clutter of the branches blocking the channel.

"Cal, you down there?" came Trakker's voice through the intercom system.

"I see you up there. You're almost right above me."

"You having fun with the fish?" laughed Hayes.

Normally he would have laughed in return, but instead out came a weakly drawled "yes~."

There was a splash above and Trakker came somersaulting down through the water in a diving helmet and air tanks. "Well hello," he said cheerfully unfolding himself. "You are right here." He made his way through the maze of branches down to Raven.

Burns waved at him through the glass.

Trakker swam about and studied the nature of Burns' imprisonment and soon formulated a solution. "If we can blast the trunk off of this tree, we should be able to remove the branches fairly easily, either by hand or by having Gator tow them off, or they might just float off. And maybe a little more pruning will be needed. Otherwise, besides a few dents and scratches, Raven looks like it will be fine."

"There's one spot on the back window where one of the seals is leaking, but beyond that I think you're right," agreed Burns.

"Dusty, you ready to do a little swimming? I think Backlash is Calhoun's ticket out of here."

"You mean I have to get my uniform wet?"

"Soaking. Get Backlash on and dive in. Just watch the branches."

Moments later Hayes was underwater. All of the case masks were sealed to resist water in shallow depths for a few minutes, enough time to get one's bearings and surface, or to perform quick underwater jobs such as this one. "Backlash, fire!" Several blasts from Hayes' mask and the crown of the tree holding Raven had been separated from the trunk. The branches slowly floated upwards as did Raven. It bobbed to the surface and Burns started up the engine. There were cheers for the freed agent.

"See you on land," said Trakker.

"Will do," responded Burns as he took off across the river surface. He noticed his hands were still shaking a little.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Calhoun Burns picked at the fish on his plate but ate very little. "Not hungry?" Hayes asked.

"Not really. I guess I'm not in the mood for fish tonight." He prodded the barely touched entree with his fork—a whole catfish about a foot long, beautifully fried over their campfire on the beach. Despite the way they teased him about living off of pizza and cheese-bread Hayes had a talent for turning out a good meal from anything set in front of him.

Lopez pushed his empty plate suggestively toward Burns, who immediately got the message and tipped his up, the catfish sliding neatly onto Lopez's plate. "Hey, I'll take some of that," jumped in Hayes, who reached for it with his fork. The two of them divided up the booty.

Burns tossed his empty paper plate under the grill of the firepit, picked up his bottle of beer, and walked off toward the river. Here at São Miguel, a small town upriver from Macapa, the beach was wide and sandy with little grass, and the cottage manager had said that they could walk several miles along the shore. But on coming to a large tree trunk near the water's edge, he took a seat and looked out over the great river. Here it was several miles across and looked more like a lake than a river. In fact, they called it the "river sea". The moon, a few days short of full, had risen in the eastern sky, illuminating the humid haze of the night.

Maybe he had imagined it.

No. It had been there, as real as anything. Frighteningly real. When they'd freed Raven of the tree and he'd gotten the car to shore, her handprints were clearly visible in the thin layer of silt that had settled onto the black chassis. He'd even gone back twice to look at those prints before washing them off in frustration. Thankfully no one else had noticed the mysterious marks.

A slosh in the water caught his attention, and turning to look he saw Matt walking toward him, ankle deep in the river. "It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?" he asked, taking a seat on the tree-trunk as well.

"Yep. Very lovely."

"No matter how many times I see the Amazon I'm always impressed. I was thrilled to find us somewhere right on the river to stay."

"My first time to see it, and I'm still trying to grasp how large it is."

"Biggest river in the world...not in length, but just in volume of water flowing out of it. Nothing else comes close to it.

They sat a while in silence, looking out over the water. Now and then a fish would break the surface or bat would flit about their ears.

Trakker's tone changed. "So, Calhoun. What's bothering you?"

"Hmm? What's bothering me?" He tried to sound nonchalant. Damn. The others had warned him. Trakker always wanted to know everyone's issues—if there was something worrying you, something on your mind, he would pry it out of you just as a starfish forced open a clam. "Eh, just moody. Wishing I'd been able to take Vanessa down too."

"C'mon. What happened, Cal? You came out of that river a different man, and I know it's not about Vanessa either."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Not really, but it is showing. Tell me."

The starfish had latched onto him. Why fight the inevitable?

Burns sighed and looked out over the river, moonlight turning the rippled surface into an ebony field of sequins. "I want to talk about it, but if I do you'll send me straight in for a psychological evaluation. I can't even believe what I saw myself. So I'm just going to pretend nothing happened and I just sat there in Raven waiting for you guys to show up." He stood up with a huff. "I'm just going to move on and I hope you'll do the same. I'll get over it soon enough." He drank the last little bit of his beer, wound up, and pitched the bottle into the river.

"If you don't want to talk about it, then that's fine," said Trakker calmly. "Sometimes that's how we have to deal with things we don't want to accept." After a minute of letting that sink in, he looked over at Burns. "I really was hoping you would tell me, though. There were some rather interesting handprints on Raven's roof and windows. And I'm quite sure they weren't mine or Dusty's. As far as I know, both of us have ten fingers and no claws."

Burns turned quickly to him. "You saw those too?"

"Yes, first when I dove down to check your status and again when we had Raven up on land. I thought at first they were marks from the tree branches, but then I saw there were quite a few of them." He looked searchingly at Burns. "Cal, what was it?"

Burns sat down again and put his head into his hands. "Did you ever see that old horror movie "Creature from the Black Lagoon?"

"Years ago...rubbery fishman monster. Classic."

"It was like that—like the Creature. But it was...it was..it was slender and graceful. I'm sure it was female."

"Female?"

"There was something in her eyes, in the way her face looked. I guess you could call her a mermaid. But she was much more fish...gills...lots of fins. No breasts and no hair." Burns looked over at Matt. "See? Crazy."

"I would be inclined to agree if I hadn't spotted those prints, and there were plenty of them too."

"The thing came right up to the windshield and just floated there, peering in at me. I was terrified at first, but then I could see there was intelligence and emotion in her eyes. And when she put her hand against the glass, I put mine against it, and she smiled at me."

"What color was she?"

"Sort of a rusty red and tan color, but the membranes of her fins were rather yellowy. So were her eyes. And her eyes looked more human than those of a fish. She kept putting her face close to the glass and looking in at me. I felt like I was a goldfish in a bowl. She made these clicking and croaking noises...I could hear them through the windows."

"How long was she there?"

"About twenty minutes...she disappeared when you and Dusty showed up."

"Amazing."

"To say the least. It was all so surreal." Suddenly he snapped out of his reminiscence. "You can't tell anyone. Not even the others," he said worriedly.

"Why not? I think Alex would be most interested in this."

"Because you can't. They'll think I'm nuts, and I'm not."

"We've seen a lot of weird stuff, Cal. You know that. You've read our mission reports. Heck, remember that dinosaur-boy thing. That was also here in the Amazon basin."

He sighed. "Just don't. Please."

"If you insist, I'll keep your secret. Lord knows I keep plenty of them."

"I mean it, Matt. You can't even tell Alex."

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 4: "Maria Luiz"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	4. Maria Luiz

**Chosen**

**Chapter 4: Maria Luiz**

**Trakker leaned against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. "You're right. It is completely weird. And I can't make you do something you don't want to. And yes, we're here to fight VENOM, not chase after some cryptid."**

-o-o-o-o-o-

The next day was first spent outfitting a rented boat with sonar and scanners, and then taking it out to probe the waters of the Amazon. The murky river was not going to yield its secrets easily to them. A search pattern was drawn up on the navigational chart, and the dull process began. They swept back and forth over the area the boat had gone down, moving downstream from there, knowing the current flowed as much at the bottom of the river as it did at the top. And the water was deep here...anywhere from two hundred to two hundred and fifty feet deep according to the readings and the navigational chart.

Hayes piloted the boat while the others took turns staring glassy-eyed at the monitors, hoping the readings would reveal the sunken craft and its valuable cargo. By the time the light of the day was fading, they were feeling somewhat defeated by the grueling task set before them. "Why can't someone else just come take care of the salvage part?" Hayes complained. "The cargo doesn't belong to us."

"The PNA is working on getting a salvage team down here, but until then, we'll keep looking for it. You know how sensitive this cargo is. And I'm afraid that if we just leave it there, someone one else will beat the PNA it." Trakker explained.

"Can we at least call it quits for the night?" asked Burns. He and Lopez were taking their turn at the monitors. "I think my eyes are starting to glaze over from staring at these things," he said with a gesture toward the screens.

Sector laughed, setting down his binoculars. He had been looking out at some of the other boats on the river. "I think we could convince Matt to put aside the whip for a while."

Trakker glanced over at him. "The beatings will continue until morale improves," he chuckled. And then he turned to Hayes. "Back to port. The crew is rumbling for a bit of shore leave."

"Aye-aye, Sir." He leaned over and marked the point on the chart with a pen. Then he spun the wheel and aimed downriver for São Miguel.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Docking in São Miguel, the agents were surprised to find an old man and a small girl standing watching them from the dock. As they tied up the boat, the girl came forward and jumped aboard. She appeared perhaps about seven or eight in age and looked quite typical of the local children with her sandaled feet, cotton dress, and braided hair. A much loved plastic doll was tucked under her arm, its hot pink nylon hair wild with age and many, many washings.

"Hello," said Sector. Was the girl here to beg for candy or money? "May I help you?" he asked, not expecting her to understand the words but perhaps the sentiment.

She paused, looked at him carefully, and then turned away. "I am looking for someone. There is someone here I have a message for," she said in slow but perfect English. She walked along the outside of the cabin, looking up at Lopez with the same judgment, and then moving on. Trakker was not her target either, even though she gave him a longer look as she passed him as he headed into the cabin.

But on coming to Burns, her face lit up with recognition, and she reached out to him to take his hand. The others all watched from a distance, and then watched the old man as he shambled onto the boat and followed her. "I have a message for you," she said to Burns, both of her hands grasping onto his.

Burns looked to the others. Her presence had been puzzling enough, but why had she singled him out? "A message for me?"

"She wants to see you again."

"What? Who? Who wants to see me again?"

"The River Princess. You are the one who was in the water-beetle boat, right? She told me what you looked like. You're the Beetle-Guide."

"River Princess?" asked Sector.

"Yes, the Princess, who lives here. She's the Princess of the River and the Queen of the Fish."

A horrified look suddenly crossed Burns' face. He took the child by the wrist and led her away from the others up to the bow of the boat. The old man continued to follow along. "Who are you, and what's going on?" Burns asked, squatting down and facing her.

"She told me she found you in the river yesterday, under the water. You were in the boat that looked like a water-beetle." And then the child's eyes focused on something far away, her pupils dilating. She raised her tiny hand and spread her fingers. Her doll fell to the deck. Instead of two pink plastic legs, under its skirt was a mermaid's tail.

She pushed her hand in Burns' direction. "You touched me, through the glass. Remember?" The child's voice was deeper, slower. "You remember me, right?" Her eyes were now focusing on Burns, looking deep into his slate-blue irises.

The old man sat down on a nearby bench, watching the scene without concern.

As if in a trance Burns' raised his hand, spreading it against the girl's.

Her face broke into a wide smile. "You do remember! I have been waiting for you to return to the water."

"River Princess? Is that your name?" asked Trakker, suddenly appearing from behind Burns.

"Matt!" Burns gasped, not having noticed him leave the pilot's cabin.

"No. That is just what the men-of-land call me." She peered at him and then smirked. "You are the swimming man with the sunlight hair. I saw you...you and another man-of-land. You had a bubble on your head, a big bubble to breathe in."

"Yes. We were looking for our friend here." Trakker put his hands on Burns' shoulders. "This man is my friend," he said with a smile.

"A friend?"

"Yes." Trakker knelt down beside Burns and tenderly took the girl's hands, which felt cold and clammy even in the heat of the evening. "River Princess. What brings you to us? Why did you seek out this man?"

"Because he came to me in the metal water-beetle. I am lonely. There are no men-of-water here, and I need a mate."

"A mate?" Burns choked.

"Why a human? Why a man-of-land?"

"Your kind is most like mine. Our men take human wives sometimes, and sometimes the women take a man-of-land."

"Why not a fish? They live as you do, no?"

The River Princess frowned and pulled her hands away. "Do not insult me. The fish are stupid. And the pink dolphins are foolish and unfaithful." And then she looked back to Burns and smiled happily at him. "You came to me underwater, even though you breathe the air. We should be together."

The concern on Burns' face was sliding into panic and dread.

"I want to see you again. Come in your water-beetle boat. Or swim to me with the bubble-head."

There was silence, the girl looking at Burns hopefully. She fingered his hair and ran her tiny fingers over his face. "Please, come to me again," she pleaded.

"No!" he said suddenly, and he stood and pushed past Trakker, ducking into the cabin and shutting the door behind him.

The River Princess cried out painfully and then sobbed, a heart-breaking sound. She took a step toward the cabin, but stumbled. Trakker caught her as she fell and righted the child. The girl came back, blinking and looking dazed. The River Princess had relinquished her possession of the little girl.

"Wait here, Miss," said Trakker, patting her on the shoulder and seating her next to the old man. "Alex! See if they need anything," he called to Sector, who with the others was watching the scene from down the walkway. Trakker went into the cabin and found Burns, who sat collapsed into on of the chairs, coughing and looking quite pale. "Cal?"

"What?! Leave me alone."

"Calhoun. We're on the verge of contacting an unknown species here; a sentient, psychic humanoid species, and it looks like right now you're the key to it all. We could really use your help here."

Burns glared at him. "I signed up to fight VENOM. Not to be part of some inter-species dating experiment. You heard what she said. Why don't you go see if she wants Alex? He's your zoologist. Heck, he'd probably be more than happy to swim upstream and spawn with her," he spat.

"That's pretty cold."

"Yeah, well so is this River Princess thing. She's a fish! A humanoid fish. Legs and fins is just a weird combination and I'm just not attracted to it." Frustratedly he put his head into his hands and massaged his temples. "Sorry, but I'm sticking to my own species," he said grimly. "It was difficult enough just seeing her once, but now things have gone completely weird. I mean, who is this kid and why is she all possessed by this River Princess? And how do we know she isn't just making this up?"

Trakker leaned against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. "You're right. It is completely weird. And I can't make you do something you don't want to. And yes, we're here to fight VENOM, not chase after some cryptid."

Burns sighed, and he spoke again but with a softer tone. "Matt...I'm not trying to be unhelpful. Maybe you've been exposed to enough strangeness that you can easily wrap your mind around this sort of thing. But for me, this is just so far from everything I know and everything I was taught growing up. To me, it's all very wrong and very disturbing. Maybe someday I'll change and be a little more accepting, but today is not that day."

Trakker walked over and put his hand on Burns' shoulder. "It's all right. We're just here until either we salvage that cargo or the PNA clears the red tape and gets their salvage team down here. And then you can go home and forget all this ever happened." He squeezed Burn's shoulder in benediction and went back to where he'd left the girl.

The other three agents were crowded around her, their eyes wide with what the child was telling them. Burns' secret was no longer his alone. She was telling them everything, about the encounter in the river, about the River Princess talking through her just now. And noticing their leader there, they all turned to him with questioning, doubtful looks.

"Matt! Why didn't Calhoun tell us? Did you know about this?" Hayes asked.

Trakker sighed. "I found out last night, but he didn't want me to tell you. I promised him I wouldn't."

"Seriously? He saw something like that and he couldn't tell us?"

"He was that thrown by it." Trakker sat down on a nearby bench and looked out across the water. "He's just having a hard time accepting what was there and he just wanted the whole thing to blow past without anyone ever knowing...without really having to accept it himself." Somehow he could feel Burns glaring at him from inside the cabin.

"No wonder he was acting a bit strange yesterday," said Julio.

Sector tried to get more information on the River Princess from her, but all he could learn was that her name was Maria Luiz and that she lived with her family and her grandfather in an orange and blue house along the river. And her grandfather was insisting that it was time for dinner and that they had to go. So she said her goodbyes, and waved at Burns through the large cabin windows, her mermaid doll clutched under her arm again.

Burns turned away.

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 5: "River Royalty"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	5. River Royalty

**Chosen**

**Chapter 5: River Royalty**

-o-o-o-o-o-

******The Girl:**** Didn't you just love the picture? I did. But I just felt so sorry for the creature at the end.**

******Sherman:**** Sorry for the creature? What did you want? Him to marry the girl?**

******The Girl:**** He was kinda scary-looking, but he wasn't really all bad. I think he just craved a little affection – you know, a sense of being loved and needed and wanted.**

******Sherman:**** That's a very interesting point of view**

**- A discussion of "the Creature from the Black Lagoon" from "The Seven Year Itch." 1955, Universal Studios.**

-o-o-o-o-o-

They had dinner on the beach again that night, Hayes having picked up some beef and vegetables and turned it into shish-kabobs. And afterwards they sat around watching the moon rise and boats go by on the river.

"Oh God," gasped Burns suddenly.

The others all turned toward where he was looking. Approaching from the town were the figures of Maria Luiz and her grandfather.

"Why can't I escape this?" groaned Burns.

Matt rose from the sand and went to greet them, speaking with the two for a short while before bringing them back to the fireside. Maria walked right up to Burns. "She misses you. She cries because you won't see her."

"What? Why does she want me? I don't want to see her. Tell her that."

Suddenly Maria straightened up with a bit of a surprised look on her face. "She's here. The River Princess is here!"

"Great...now shes stalking me," he grumbled.

"Where is she?" asked Sector. Even if Burns wasn't interested, he certainly was.

"There..." Maria turned and pointed toward the river. "She's right there...in the water...waiting."

"Will we get to see her?"

"You don't want to see her!" snapped Burns, sweeping his hand through the air.

"Perhaps you don't, but I'd like to. If she really is Piscis sapiens..." retorted Alex.

"Well I'd like to meet your new girlfriend too," chortled Dusty. "I'll bet she's a real looker."

Burns glared at him.

"Look!" cried Maria. Everyone turned to do just that.

About twenty feet from the shore a humanoid figure was rising from the water.

"By Jove!" gasped Alex.

"Will you look at that?" exclaimed Julio as the River Princess drew herself up to full height and spread her fins regally, the tawny yellow of the membranes glowing in the moonlight. In one hand hung several waterlilies. "There really is a fishwoman."

"Hot damn!" was all Dusty could manage.

Unafraid, Maria walked down the beach toward the River Princess, walking into the river to greet her. The others all looked to her grandfather, who stood watching as unconcerned as before. "Won't the Princess hurt her? Aren't you worried?" Trakker asked him.

The old man just smiled and shook his head, not knowing a word but understanding what the foreigner was asking.

Maria walked fearlessly into the river and embraced the River Princess. Alex, overwhelmed by curiosity, moved toward the shore as well, quietly watching from as close as he dared. But it was obvious that she had come to try for a visit with Burns again, for she kept looking to him, following his movements. She gave Maria the lilies, turned her around, and the child ran up from the water to him. "Please? Please go to her? She wants to see you again," Maria pleaded, holding the blossoms out to him.

The River Princess shook her fins and spread them again, spines and membranes fanning almost halo-like around her. She opened her arms to him in welcome.

"So this girl loves you and you won't even see her? What kind of a man are you?" teased Hayes smugly.

"Dammit, Dusty! Knock it off!" Burns stalked up the beach toward the cottages, leaving everyone standing around awkwardly.

The River Princess stretched out her arms after him, taking a few hurried steps forward. And then her head sank and she threw herself back into the river and disappeared beneath the water.

"He's breaking her heart," whimpered Maria as she plopped down frustratedly in the sand, pounding it with her tiny fists.

Trakker walked up to Maria and sat down with her. The girl's face was wet with tears. "Maria," he addressed her calmly. "Tell me about the River Princess. How do you know her? How did you learn you could talk to her?"

She sniffled and looked up at him. "I've always been able to talk to her, for as long as I can remember." She picked up the hem of her dress, shook the sand from it, and dried her eyes. "Ever since she rescued me."

"Rescued? Tell me about that."

"I don't remember it. I was too little. But my family told me that when I was two, we were on the night ferry coming back from a shopping trip to Macapa. I fell into the water and they could not find me. They thought I was dead and drowned. But the next night, when they were on the beach praying for my soul, the River Princess came, and she gave me to the priest. He was the only one brave enough to go into the river to her. I was not drowned because she rescued me. They said I was holding onto her like a little baby would."

"She brought you out of the water?"

"Yes. And after that I would talk to her. And sometimes in the night or at sunrise she comes to visit me. She is very lonely."

"And she talks to you? Inside your head?" Sector asked.

"That is the only way she talks to me. She cannot make words." And then she giggled. "She makes noises like a catfish."

"And you speak English very well. Where did you learn it?"

"At the missionary school. The teachers come as volunteers from the United States to teach. They taught me English." She looked around at the four men. "You are from the United States, right?"

"Yes. We are here for a special job," said Trakker, picking up the conversation again.

"The Princess said you were in the water in boats. But the Beetle-Guide...he was in a boat underwater. That's why she loves him. Because he was underwater."

"Does she talk to anyone else?"

"Just me, and sometimes this old lady in town. But the old lady lives far from the water and does not like the river or the Princess. And once a fat man came from another country, and she could talk to him as well."

"Maria," called her usually silent grandfather, who had been helping himself to the last of the rice in the pot and had finished it. He spoke to her in Portuguese, and it was clear that he wanted to go home.

"I must go now," said Maria somewhat disappointedly. "If you want to talk to me again, my family lives along the river in the orange and blue house." Her grandfather began walking away. "Goodbye," she chirped and ran off after him.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The team set out in the boat again the next morning hoping to get in as much searching as possible that day. And within a couple of hours of resuming the search pattern, the sunken VENOM boat was found. Hayes immediately marked a big black 'X' over the spot on his chart, and then sketched a little pirate flag and a treasure chest next to it.

"According to this, that boat's just over two hundred feet down," said Trakker, studying the monitors.

"The chart says the same thing. That's a long way to dive," said Hayes "And I don't think our gear will even take us that far."

"You're right, Dusty," said Sector. "That puts it in the range of a technical dive, and our equipment isn't designed to go that deep. And none of us even have that kind of diving experience."

"Raven's only good to forty feet, and Shark's seals are only good to about a hundred," continued Burns.

"I guess it's up to the pro's then," said Trakker in defeat "I knew this was a possibility. But at least we know where to send them looking."

"Unless..." Sector said, his arms crossed but his eyes on the ceiling.

"Unless what?"

"How deep do you think the River Princess can dive?"

A choking sound escaped Burns' throat.

"I don't know. I'd expect she can easily go deeper than we can."

"Yeah!" said Hayes enthusiastically. "We could get Calhoun's girlfriend to go grab those crates for us and bring them back up."

Burns shot Hayes an evil look but held his tongue.

"We could ask at least," thought Trakker aloud. "Even if we could get her to take a line, and hook it to each crate. Then we could simply haul them back to the surface."

"You're all crazy," hissed Burns. "Why would some overgrown fish...fish thing want to help us?"

"It's certainly worth asking, I think," said Sector.

Burns shook his head, but Trakker agreed with the Brit. "We'll go back to town and see if we can find Maria and her grandfather."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Trakker and Lopez walked into São Miguel, headed for the orange-painted house on the riverfront that Maria had mentioned as being home. It was not difficult to find—a small, weathered house partially on stilts, painted a gaudy orange with fading blue trim. The grandfather sat on the porch alone, half-dozing as usual, but when he saw the two foreigners approach he waved, beckoning them forward. "Mr. Luiz. Could we talk to Maria? We have a favor to ask her," Trakker began, fumbling with his handheld translator.

"Um favor? Maria?"

"Por favor."

The old man creaked to his feet and called to someone inside the house, and a small boy emerged, and he spoke to the child in Portuguese. The boy leapt off of the porch and skipped down the slope to where Maria was playing at the riverside with her mermaid doll. He spoke with her, and then she came up from the waterside to Trakker and Lopez.

She looked up at them, and as he often did when speaking with children, Trakker squatted down. "Maria, we have a job for the Princess. And we will be happy to give her some sort of reward for her help."

"A job?"

"A boat sank in the river near here. That is why we are in São Miguel. We know where this boat is, but it is in very deep water. There is something on that boat that we are trying to get. If this princess could help get it for us, it would save us a lot of trouble."

"Something you need out of the water?"

"May we ask the River Princess this favor?"

She looked out over the river again. "She is here. She waits for the Beetle-Guide to change his mind." Maria braced her hands on the fence and closed her eyes. After a couple of awkward minutes in which the men stood about waiting for the response, she opened her eyes again. "The Princess will help you. She says she will watch for you on the water."

"When?"

"She is watching now."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Burns had found his way to a local bar and was on his second caipirinha, a Brazilian drink he had discovered that was sufficiently strong enough to dull his frustrations. He so wanted to give Dusty a good slapping. No...not a slap. A good punch in the mouth for his stupid teasing.

He sighed and sipped the cocktail, savoring the tartness of the lime and the sweetness of the sugar.

There were too many why's here at play. Why did Matt keep going back to that monstrosity in the river? Why couldn't they just wait for the PNA to send real divers? Why couldn't they just leave that stupid boat and its stupidly valuable cargo at the bottom of the river to rust away? Why had he been the chosen one? Why couldn't it have been Sector that the fishwoman wanted?

He snickered, imagining Alex and the River Princess locked in an embrace, her cold lips pressed against his, her wet body soaking his clothing and her webbed hands clutching him around the shoulders. That pervert would probably love kissing this Piscis sapiens, as he called her.

And then he shuddered, and quickly downed the rest of his drink. That monster was probably imagining the same scene, but it was him in her clutches. For a moment he placed himself in the same scene, wondering what it would be like to be held by the cold and wet Amazonian fishwoman, and then he dashed the fantasy to pieces when she began to French kiss him, her fishy tongue slipping into his mouth. Disgusting! Quickly he tried to conjure images of women he would actually like to be in that scenario with...his college girlfriend, his neighbor's pretty blonde wife, his fellow agent Gloria, that girl at the coffee shop in town, that woman he'd seen on the bus years ago.

He sighed and the bartender waggled a bottle of cachaça at him. There was no language barrier here. Burns nodded, and the bartender made him yet another drink. Matt might chew him out for getting soused, but it wasn't like he was needed right now. They could go get that stupid cargo without him, and especially without him if they managed to gain the help of their precious river monster.

But it was not to be. Just as the bartender set down the drink in front of him Lopez and Trakker marched in and flanked him. "C'mon, Cal. We've got our salvage team," said Trakker.

"You don't need me," Burns excused himself. "Besides, I'm still running away. Didn't you see the sign on the door? It said 'no non-humans allowed' so I'm safe from her in here. And besides I just got a fresh drink."

"Here, I'll help you." Lopez grabbed the glass and drank the top off of the cold cocktail. He smacked his lips and made a face. "You won't be able to walk away, let alone run if you have too many of these," he said, lifting it up to eye-level to scrutinize it.

Trakker had his wallet out and was paying the bartender. "What's he been drinking?" he called back over his shoulder as the bartender went to the register for change.

"Something the locals drink. I don't remember what the barkeep called it. Mashed lime wedges, sugar, and some kind of local rum with a weird name." He took the glass back from Lopez and drank the rest in one go. "See. I'm not fit to join you. In fact you should probably just send me home. I'll catch a plane tonight."

Trakker laughed. "C'mon. You've not had that much. I remember how you used to drink back in college. You'll sober up on the ship, sailor." The two marched him off and down to the port where the boat waited.

"Shanghaied..." Burns moaned.

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 6: "Found and Lost"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	6. Found and Lost

**Chosen**

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 6: Found and Lost**

**The men stared open-mouthed as she appeared before them in her full glory, no darkness or silty water to hide her alien appearance and muscular physique. She crouched on the deck beside Maria, who placed her little hand on the Princess' head and petted her fondly.**

-o-o-o-o-o-

They all stood at the edge of the boat looking into the water at the River Princess. The cloak of night had veiled her visit the night before, her magnificent figure illuminated only by the moon. Now she floated just off the stern, the aquatic splendor revealed by the daylight, her golden fins and rusty red skin glowing in the sun.

Her fins were spread out and they fluttered in the buoyancy of the river. From the largest fin along her back several darker stripes extended like a mackerel's coloration, and upon her shoulders were six eyespots, pale yellow dots outlined in black. Sometimes her scales sparkled with a bit of iridescence where the sunlight touched it, and when her movements stretched her backwards the gill slits beneath her chin and across her chest opened and they could see her salmon-red gills within the paler skin of her underside. The men, Sector in particular, watched her with great fascination. He had a camera out and was snapping pictures.

"Check her out! She's smiling!" exclaimed Hayes.

She indeed was—squinting and smiling up at Burns and Maria. The girl had brought him to the edge of the deck, leading him with one hand, her doll clutched in the other.

"Maria," addressed Trakker. "Ask her if there is anything she would like in exchange for her help. I am happy to pay her, but I suspect she has no need for the currency of the men-of-land."

"Yeah. Tell her she can have Calhoun for the job," grinned Dusty, nudging his teammate forward slightly.

Burns snapped. "Shut up, Dusty! I've had enough of your teasing about this."

"Hey, lighten up. It was just a joke."

"It wasn't funny."

"Guys, that's enough," said Matt, glowering at them.

"Just leave me out of this," Burns growled and stalked off to the far side of the boat.

Matt sat down on the edge of the deck, his feet bare and dangling in the water. "Maria, could you help me explain to the Princess what I need her to do?"

The little girl came up to the gap in the boat's rail.

"There is a sunken boat deep down, almost right below us. On that boat are four wooden boxes."

Maria got down on all fours beside the blonde man and looked to the Princess. Together their eyes closed. "She understands," said Maria after a moment.

"We have a long rope with a hook on it." He showed the fishwoman the end of the cable with the large, latching hook at the end. "The boxes have handles. Connect the hook to the handle, and tug twice on the rope so we know it is connected. Then we will pull the box to the surface."

Maria again conveyed the information, and the fishwoman reached out for the hook. Trakker handed it to her, and was impressed with how the creature studied it carefully and tried the latching mechanism, working it dextrously with her long clawed fingers.

"Let her know that I will be in the water to help get the boxes onto the boat, and that we are ready for her to begin. We need to pull up all four boxes."

"You're not going into the water with her, are you?" asked Julio.

"There's no need to be afraid of her. Maria certainly isn't, so why should I be?"

Maria reached out to the River Princess, and their hands touched, Maria's tiny pink one and the fishwoman's huge webbed one. "She understands," and with that the Princess dove into the murky depths.

There was something eerie about watching the cable unwind. Sector counted off the length markers painted on it as Trakker donned his scuba gear. The others stood about simply watching in silence.

When about a hundred and fifty feet of cable had unspooled, Maria suddenly froze, and then giggled. "She says it's strange diving so deep. She doesn't usually go down this far."

"Is she all right to dive so far down?" Sector asked.

"Of course," Maria replied after a pause. "There's just no need to go down this deep usually. It's just dark and empty."

Hayes retreated to the cabin to check on the boat's positioning, and corrected for the drift of the current with a burst of power. Trakker was pulling on his fins. "I feel pretty wimpy compared to her," he said flipping his webbed feet and spreading his hand.

As the two hundred foot marker dove into the river the cable ceased to unwind, but simply hung there twitching slightly. "She's looking now...there's the boat," said Maria distantly. She went to the bench where she had left her doll and and picked it up. She took of its long dress and began to move it through the air in a swimming motion, the hot pink hair fluttering in the light breeze blowing across the river.

"What's it like down there?" Lopez asked the girl, squatting down next to her.

"Just water and darkness...very few fish. The sunlight does not want to shine there," she said, diving the doll toward the bench and wriggling it around.

"Too much silt and organic matter in the water," added Sector.

And suddenly the girl stood up laughing. "She's found a box already!"

The cable suddenly jerked and unwound another thirty feet. After a minute of sitting still it jerked twice. "Pull 'er up!" called Trakker as he ungracefully flapped his way to the edge of the deck. "I'm going in to meet the crate." He tumbled backwards over the edge of the boat and began his dive as Sector hit the motor on the winch.

They all stood about expectantly watching the cable rewind, Sector counting down the lengths.

"I think I just got buzzed by the Princess," came Trakker's voice over the intercom. "Something just shot past me too quickly to see what it really was, but I got a flash of rust and yellow."

Moments later the River Princess suddenly erupted from the cloudy depths, leaping twice her length into the air, arcing backwards, and diving gracefully headfirst back into the waters. Maria dropped her doll and rushed to the railing. "She's so happy!" the girl exclaimed. Before anyone realized it the girl had kicked off her sandals and tossed off her dress and leapt into the water wearing just her little pair of shorts.

"Maria!" several of the men gasped.

The River Princess surfaced beside her and Maria flung her skinny arms around the cryptid's neck and kissed her cheeks. The fishwoman smiled and kissed her back, holding her affectionately.

The MASK agents watched, amazed at the joy and love shared between the two. And even Burns forgot his brooding and came over to look.

Trakker surfaced with the crate. "What's going on?" He looked over to see Maria in the Princess' arms.

"Oh, just having a little victory celebration," Lopez explained.

Trakker laughed. "Heh...well let's get this crate aboard before you break out the champagne."

They maneuvered the wood and plastic box onto the deck, and then the River Princess pushed Maria to the boat's edge, where Lopez leaned over and received her, pulling her up onto the deck and getting half-soaked in the process. Not that it mattered—it was hot and they were all dressed in beachwear—swimtrunks and tee-shirts and shorts. Hayes had on a particularly hideous Hawaiian shirt, of which Trakker had earlier said: "it looks like a Luau vomited all over a Kabuki theater curtain."

Sector unfastened the crate from the cable and handed the hook back to the waiting Princess. Taking it, she dove back into the river again, the line unspooling behind her.

Lopez grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Maria. "Você realmente ama a Princesa do Rio," he said, attempting a little Portuguese.

The girl nodded enthusiastically. "She's my best friend."

"Alley-oop!" huffed Trakker as he bounced backwards into the water once again. "One down...three to go."

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Where did you get these binoculars, Vanessa? Out of a box of breakfast cereal?" Rax complained.

"Are you looking through the correct end?" she retorted, not even looking up from her book.

"Ha ha...funny."

"They're good binoculars. You're just trying to use them to do the job of a telescope. They're plenty good enough for what we need to see."

"We should just take out the boat and get a better look."

"Too suspicious."

A burst of static preceded Mayhem's voice calling over the radio. "How's the watch going?"

Vanessa slapped her book closed. "Well there you are! I've been trying to reach you for an hour!" she said with a touch of irritation in her voice. "Where've you been?"

"Out," he said flatly.

"Air-conditioned hotel lounge..." mumbled Rax.

"Well it seems they found our boat and are bringing up the cargo. They just pulled up a second crate from the river."

Mayhem chuckled delightedly. "Excellent. Any sign of MASK?"

"Not that we've seen. They've got two divers in the water and about four more guys on the boat. But no masks or vehicles or anything. Just a PNA flag."

"And a little girl," Rax said.

"Any weapons on the boat?"

"None."

"Twenty million in microchips and they're unarmed? I suppose looking inconspicuous is the best defense." He paused. "Well, I'll get out there and we'll grab that cargo once they've gotten all four boxes up. And if they don't find all four, we'll just take what they've got. Tavisson will pay for a partial delivery...just not the full amount. Mayhem out."

Rax lay down the binoculars. "I still can't figure out that one diver."

"The reddish-brown one?"

"Yeah. Must be some new kind of diving suit. He looks like he's got flippers on his arms and along his back as well, but no mask or air tanks."

"Kinda looks like the Creature from the Black Lagoon," Vanessa laughed. "Rawr!" She walked over to where Rax sat leaning against the trunk of a small tree and took her binoculars back from him. She looked out over the water again. "And they're not in shallow water either so I don't know how he's managing to dive and surface that far so quickly. The bends should be killing him at that rate. According to the navigational chart that water they're in is anywhere from 200 to 240 feet deep. She turned and walked toward the low bank to where Manta was parked in a cluster of trees. "I'm going to go suit up. I'd suggest you do the same."

-o-o-o-o-o-

The last box came up on the cable and was carefully guided aboard the boat. Trakker climbed up behind it, followed by the River Princess. The men stared open-mouthed as she appeared before them in her full glory, no darkness or silty water to hide her alien appearance and muscular physique. She crouched on the deck beside Maria, who placed her little hand on the Princess' head and petted her fondly.

The others all stared with some apprehension, unnerved by the fact that there was nothing but air between her and them. It took even Sector a moment to regain himself after the initial shock at seeing her right there, only an arm's length away. When he did, he pulled out his camera and began snapping pictures again.

Trakker pushed his diving mask up onto his forehead and found his composure again and addressed her, offering praise and thanks, and asking again if there was anything he could do in return. He sat down on the bench and slipped off his air tanks and scuba fins.

The River Princess approached him curiously, reaching out to touch one of the discarded fins, fingering it briefly before looking at her own webbed feet. And then she drew herself up to full height, some six feet plus and inch or two, but she did not extend her fins as she had the previous night. Her eyes flitted briefly to Burns and then back to Trakker.

"She wants to know if the job is finished," asked Maria.

"Yes. We have what we want. Thank you."

The Princess looked briefly to Maria, whose face suddenly washed over with distress, and then the fishwoman sprang.

In two bounds she was across the boat. She seized Burns around the middle, her powerful arms encircling his waist and hips. Two more bounds and she leapt from the stern into the Amazon, Burns held half over her shoulder.

The others all ran to the side of the boat, shouting and crying out in a panic. Even Maria's normally lethargic grandfather was with them, calling after the Princess in Portuguese. They could see her swimming away with her captive, alternately diving and surfacing, forcing Burns to concentrate on simply breathing rather than escaping.

"Dusty! We need the vehicles. Get us back to São Miguel!" Trakker ordered. Hayes spun and darted for the helm. "Maria!" He turned to where he had seen the girl last, only to find her huddled up clutching her doll tightly to her chest, tears falling bitterly. "Maria, tell her..."

The girl hid her face. "I told her not to! I told her not to take him! But she wanted him so much!"

And suddenly the sound of a rapidly approaching helicopter came over the water, growing louder and louder.

"Switchblade! shouted Sector and Lopez almost in unison.

"VENOM!" Trakker cried. "Not now!" His throat tightened painfully.

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 7: "Awakening"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	7. Awakening

**Chosen**

**-o-o-o-o-o-**

**Chapter 7: Awakening**

**He rose to his feet and looked up to the cabin, but it was clearly vacant. The only footprints he could see were the wide webbed tracks the River Princess left, circling around the long streaks in the sand he had left as she had dragged him out of the water. **

-o-o-o-o-o-

Switchblade circled the boat threateningly, weapons trained on it. Inside the cockpit they could see Mayhem at the controls, his Viper mask hiding his face. From the direction of São Miguel another boat was approaching at high speed.

Mayhem's voice came over a loudspeaker. "We're just here for a pick-up. We want those four crates you've so graciously recovered for us. Hand them over and no one gets hurt."

"Don't try anything," Trakker instructed. "Just let them have the cargo."

"But Matt..."

"We've lost one of us already. Just everyone do what they say and be cooperative."

The oncoming boat pulled up, driven by Malloy. Warfield stood on the deck cradling an assault rifle. Dagger hustled out and hitched the two boats together with the docking ropes. Piranha surfaced on the opposite side of the salvage boat.

"All right! You there! Yeah, you in the diving gear and you in the ugly shirt! Get those crates aboard!" Warfield shouted, pointing the nose of the rifle at Trakker and Hayes, and then at the German cargo.

Trakker pulled the diving mask on his head a bit lower to hide his face as best he could, and he and Hayes obliged.

"Who are they?" asked Maria, clinging tightly to her grandfather.

"Bad men," was Lopez's answer.

"I'm scared."

"Me too..." he whispered back.

"Thank you for your cooperation," gloated Mayhem as the last box was loaded aboard VENOM's replacement boat. "We'll have some positive things to say on your comment card. And give our love to the PNA."

Dagger undid the ropes securing the boats together and went to stand beside Warfield. With a departing laugh, VENOM pulled away.

Switchblade backed off and headed for the sky. Piranha submerged, dipping back into the murky waters.

Trakker sank to his knees and closed his eyes, the defeat hitting him hard. "How could I have let that happen? I'm so sorry, everyone. I'm sorry."

Hayes and Lopez were at their leader's side immediately. "Matt. It's not your fault. Things just happened." Sector emerged from the awkward hiding place he had found in a deck-side storage box.

"I let my guard down. Calhoun was kidnapped and now VENOM has the cargo back. I assumed they were gone—they always run away—and that left us completely vulnerable. And worse yet I risked our lives and our identities." He hung his head. "I've failed you all, especially Calhoun."

"Calm yourself, old boy," said Alex, watching the boat grow ever more distant across the waters. "We're not handing you Bruce's tanto yet. We know they're meeting with a buyer in Belem, and it's quite obvious that they didn't know who we were. If they had known, I'm sure they would have done a lot more than just take back the computer parts." He reached out and put his hand on Trakker's shoulder. "And as for Calhoun...well, I'm sure he's still alive."

"He's right, Matt," said Lopez.

"It's my fault the River Princess grabbed Cal!" blurted Hayes. "I...I joked that she could have him, and she must have heard." He looked to Maria. "She can hear through you, right?"

Maria nodded.

"If I hadn't said that..." His hands curled into fists.

"She wanted to help, but then she decided to trade the boxes in her river for your friend. She was desperate for him." And then the girl hung her head. "She told me how much she wanted him...how lonely she felt without a mate."

"I shouldn't have made him come along on this salvage trip. He really didn't want to," confessed Matt.

"Everyone stop blaming yourselves!" snapped Sector. "Hindsight is always 20/20. What we need to do now is get back to Macapa, get the vehicles, and go after VENOM again. Then tonight we'll go look for Calhoun," he said, taking over in Trakker's bout of self-flagellation. He grabbed his friend's arm and pulled him to his feet. "C'mon. It's not too late if we don't just sit around moping about it, chaps."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Burns came to slowly. "I must have passed out or something," he huffed and looked around. The sun was setting in the western sky, an unusually fiery sunset incinerating the rows of puffy clouds above. He looked about, and found himself halfway up a riverside beach, a sloping stretch of sand between a thin strip of forest and a small channel of water. A dilapidated cabin stood at the top of the beach, and in the opposite direction, a sandbar blocked the channel from a large, still area of water...perhaps a lake...perhaps just part of the river. It was too small for the Amazon, but it could easily be a tributary or a smaller offshoot of the main channel.

He rose to his feet and looked up to the cabin, but it was clearly vacant. The only footprints he could see were the wide webbed tracks the River Princess left, circling around the long streaks in the sand he had left as she had dragged him out of the water. "Hello! Hello?" he called out, not really expecting to be answered.

He went up to the cabin, a one-room shack perched at the highest point of the land, and from here he could see he was on a small island, surrounded by water on two sides and impassable marsh on two. The cabin was perched on a set of stilts three feet higher than the ground in an attempt to gain some height above the seasonal floods. But the efforts weren't completely enough—a series of waterlines on the wooden walls revealed the fickle nature of the river.

Going inside, he found the place shabbily furnished with a table, a bed, a few cupboards, and a couple of chairs. The windows were hung with tacked up curtains of once-colorful calico, now long faded and weathered. A couple of pictures hung on the walls: one a rusted metal sign for a local brand of beer, the other a print of a young couple embracing, their nakedness concealed by creative posing and a wreath of waterlilies. An oil lamp hung from the ceiling over the table. "I see she spared no expense on the honeymoon cottage." Opening the cupboards he found some canned food, a few bottles of water, a few tools, some fishing tackle, mismatched tableware, and plenty of odds and ends. Upon examination he discovered the lamp to be half-full of oil, and on a high shelf carefully wrapped in a plastic bag was a large box of matches. Surprisingly the lamp lit with little trouble, the flame flickering and guttering at first but then shining steadily.

Burns went outside again and surveyed the island. He found a trail following the shoreline and a few rusted cans here and there, but no other signs of man. The area around the cabin was it for human habitation. There was a porch with a rickety bench at the front of the structure. A fire-ring formed by top half of a 55-gallon drum sat about halfway down the beach, and a grill rested atop it for cooking. As he began examining the contents of the outdoor cupboard a splash in the water caught his attention.

He rose and moved nervously down the beach. The water was dark now, the sun having set.

As a boy he had grown up with the notion of monsters hiding in his closet and creeping about under his bed. There was the "haunted house" three blocks over from the school, a crumbling, decrepit place, the stuff of pre-teen dares. Somewhere in the woods was the purported "Cave of the Convict" where an escaped murderer continued to indulge his bloodlust. Even the local swimming hole, a fairly recent oxbow lake, had a deep zone that only the bravest (or the most foolhardy) dared to swim across.

But here was a real monster. Not a myth. Not a legend. Not something conjured over boy scout campfires. He could see her lurking in the water with just her eyes and the top of her head above the river's surface. Freud would certainly have plenty to say about this.

"So you have me now," he huffed angrily at her. "Is this what you wanted?"

She rose slightly from the water, stretching out her long arm toward him, clawed fingertips pawing the air, beckoning him toward her.

"No! This is wrong!" He scolded. He turned his back on her and stomped up the sandy slope to the cabin.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Trakker walked along the beach in his water-mocs until he came to the tree-trunk where he and Burns had talked that first night. Sitting down on it he again looked up at the stars. Rows of popcorn clouds dotted the sky. The moon was just starting to rise in the east.

The guilt over the day's incidents were chewing away at him inside, a long painful day that had begun with such promise and ended with such drama. At least they had beaten VENOM in the end, surprising Mayhem once again in Belem and managing to reclaim the cargo without much of a firefight. While their unknown buyer had gotten away with his identity intact, the man was going home without the prize he so wanted...wanted enough to keep VENOM around after the first skirmish. But the missile parts were now in the hands of the PNA and already headed north. "Those microchips have changed hands more times than a cursed diamond," Kennedy had laughed when told the story at the end of it all. He was not laughing when told of the loss of agent Calhoun Burns though. Quite the opposite in fact. "Tell me what you need, Matt. I can give you anything you want, but only for a week. After that my hands are tied."

Trakker looked out over the river again—the deep mysterious waters of the Amazon, waters that hid so much from the rest of the world. And then he stripped off his shirt and shoes and walked into the gloom.

He swam until exhausted, moving downstream, past São Miguel, past the next hamlet, then out to an island where he rested on a beach for a long time, quietly sobbing over the loss of Burns. "I've let you down, old friend," he wept.

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 8: "Melusine"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	8. Melusine

**Chosen**

**-o-o-o-o-o-**

**Chapter 8: Melusine**

**And then he heard the sound in the distance—a sound he knew all too well, the distinctive whoosh and whine of Thunderhawk's jets. He scanned the sky above the trees hoping for glimpse of red, the sound growing louder and closer.**

-o-o-o-o-o-

So how was your day in town?" asked Sector, the first to arrive at their rented riverside cottage when the searching was called off for the night. The team had spent the past three days unsuccessfully hunting for Burns: Trakker in Thunderhawk, Hayes in Gator, Lopez in Firefly, and Sector in Raven.

But today, Monday, Lopez had gone into town, giving only the enigmatic explanation of "a better idea of how I can find him..." He was now working in the cottage's kitchen. "Productive," replied the doctor.

"I see. You got groceries."

Lopez chuckled. "I did, and more." He was preparing dinner for the team, currently chopping vegetables for some sort of stir-fry.

"Beer? We drank the last of what we had last night."

"No beer, but something better."

"Must be pretty good then."

"I got a job."

"A job? Really now?"

"Well, just volunteer work really. I'll tell you when the others get back."

Hayes returned next with Trakker straggling in last. He was still taking Calhoun's loss pretty hard. In fact it seemed that only the temptation of a good meal waiting on the table was what got him to bring Thunderhawk in for the night.

"I'll be working at the medical clinic here in São Miguel," he told them all over a huge skillet full of stir-fried chicken and vegetables. "It's just on a volunteer basis. I told them I wanted no pay—just the permission to ask after my missing friend."

"Your friend that was abducted by a prehistoric river monster?" asked Sector, raising an eyebrow.

"You mean my friend that fell overboard while boating."

"That actually sounds like a pretty good plan, said Trakker.

"Dr. Salazar, the head of the clinic thought so. And one of the three nurses there offered to give me some Portuguese lessons after work to help a bit with the language barrier."

"Is she cute?" asked Hayes.

"Only if you like curvy twenty-something redheads."

Hayes pretended to think about whether he liked curvy twenty-something redheads or not.

"So I start tomorrow at nine in the morning and work until the clinic closes at five. Sundays are off."

"But how long will you stay? The PNA only gives us a seven day window to search. We started on Saturday, and it's Monday now. Four days isn't much."

Lopez nodded as he put some rice onto his plate. "I've called home to the clinic in California. I told them I might be gone a month. There are enough doctors there to cover for me."

The others all paused, shocked at the sacrifice Lopez had decided to make.

"You'll really stay that long?" asked Trakker.

"I think this might be our best chance of finding him. These people know the river. They travel on it. They work on it. They're sure to notice something out of the ordinary."

Trakker set down his fork and leaned over and took Lopez's hand. "Julio, I can't thank you enough."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Calhoun Burns lay on the sandy shore of his island prison, his torso on the beach and his legs in the water. He could feel tiny fish nipping at his feet and swimming between his toes. The ragged straw hat she had brought him lay over his face to protect him from the morning sun.

A slosh in the water announced the return of the fishwoman. He lifted the hat and his head, and sure enough, she was there rising from the slow-moving stream. "Hello, Melusine," he said, having named her after the medieval mermaid. Her blank expression turned to a smile at the sound of her given name. She came up to were he was stretched out and presented the results of her nocturnal hunting expedition. There in her net bag was what appeared to be a six pack of cola and several oranges. She gave the bag to him, and indeed, she had returned with sodas, probably stolen in the night off of someone's boat or the porch of a riverside house. Despite being her prisoner, she did try to please him and keep him fed and entertained, and it was painfully obvious that she loved him.

Eagerly he grabbed a can and popped it open, drinking deeply.

Melusine sat there watching him, and when he lowered the can to take a breath, she wrapped her huge webbed hand around his wrist and drew it to her face to sniff at the can. She was always curious about the things he consumed, and fascinated by the way he took the fish she brought, cut the head off, cut the organs out, and cooked the flesh over a fire before he ate it. It seemed like a lot of trouble considering she ate them raw and whole.

He set the can down and took one of the oranges from the bag and tore open the peel. He tossed the pieces of peel into the water, offering one to her so she could sniff it. Though intrigued by the scent of the cola, she was repulsed by the scent of the citric acid, and he smirked at the way her face scrunched up in reaction to the scent. And while she had picked up the cola can and licked at the top of it, the orange did not even get such a second try.

He had discovered that she licked things to taste them, to explore them. Anything she was interested in got licked, himself included. At first he was disgusted by the sight of her pointed pinkish-white tongue coming out to touch his hands and feet and torso, and he would push her away. But she was not easily put off, and with her strength she would hold him in place, or even hold him down. She was slightly taller than he was, but more slender and without an ounce of discernible fat on her figure. Instead she had muscle. Her strength was that of at least two men, and he was no match for her. It was just easiest to let her have her way.

After eating the orange he picked up his cola again and finished it, tossing the can back up onto the beach. He had made a conscious effort to make the island look inhabited, even if it meant making it look trashy.

And then Melusine grabbed him and pulled him further into the river. Breakfast and a cuddle—that seemed to be developing into a routine. He ended up sitting, submerged to his armpits in the water, with her lying just below the surface, her arm hooked around his thigh so as not to drift off in the slow current. She looked up at her air-breathing mate and smiled, some loosened water-plants having caught in the fins attached to her head, giving something of an impression of hair. She found his hand and opened it, carefully studying his fingers, and then lining them up against the four on her own hand. She touched the tawny yellow webbing through the spread of his fingers, and then kept shifting her hand, trying to decide which of his fingers was the one she was missing. And then she peered closely at his fingernails, comparing them to the two-inch long claws that terminated each of her digits. And all through the examination, she smiled and clasped him gently.

Over the days he had spent there, she had learned to touch him carefully, lest she injure him with her claws and he run up into the cabin or climb a tree. Then she would have to go extract him and start anew. The scratches she had given him accidentally did not heal as quickly as her wounds did. His body was all skin—smooth and delicate compared to her fine snake-like scales, and there was skin even underneath his hair which grew in odd patches it seemed. And when she looked very closely, even the skin that appeared bald had tiny fine hairs all over it.

And then he heard the sound in the distance—a sound he knew all too well, the distinctive whoosh and whine of Thunderhawk's jets. He scanned the sky above the trees hoping for glimpse of red, the sound growing louder and closer. Firefly had passed nearby two days ago but had not even come into view. He had hoped that perhaps the trash he had left about the island would catch someone's attention. Perhaps the owners of the fishing shack would come back and take away the squatter.

And then Melusine heard the sound as well and noticed Burns' eyes searching the sky. Angrily she sat up and seized him around the waist and dragged him into deeper water, heading for the cluster of bushes that grew at the head of the sandbar. She pulled him beneath their cover, possessively hiding him from the outside world. The Beetle-Guide belonged to her now. No one would take her prize away.

The sound began to fade away, Thunderhawk obviously having passed by but not overhead. "Matt..." he whimpered and let himself go limp in Melusine's arms. At least they were still looking for him.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Taking a break from searching, Trakker stood outside of the mission school awaiting the dismissal of the students. When the bell rang, children poured out of the building, dashing in all directions. Spotting Maria, Trakker waved to her. She came over to him, a boy that appeared to be an older sibling or a relative following along, a soccer ball under his arm.

"Maria," he smiled.

"Hello Mr. Trakker. Did you find Mr. Burns yet?" she asked expectantly.

He shook his head. "No, but I brought you something."

"Oh?"

He handed her the bag of mixed candy that he had purchased at the grocery store near the cottage. The puzzled look on her face turned immediately to delight and she dove into it, digging for a piece that appeared to be a favorite. And then she offered the wealth to the older boy, who eagerly and immediately found a few pieces he wanted before giving the bag back to her. Interrogating children was nearly effortless...their confessions and stories were so easily bought.

"Maria, I was hoping I could ask you some questions. Could we go sit somewhere to talk? Your friend can come too," he said, nodding at the older boy.

"This is my cousin Diogo."

"Nice to meet you, Diogo," he said with another nod.

"I hear you have a flying auto," he said.

Trakker grinned. "I do." They had been trying to keep their vehicles fairly low key, but of course people would see.

"Sensacional!"

Maria led the way to a quiet bench under a spreading tree in the schoolyard. She sat down and helped herself to another piece of candy from the bag while Diogo kicked his soccer ball around the sodless schoolyard.

"Maria, we're trying hard to find our friend, and I hoped perhaps you could tell me more about the River Princess.

"Oh? Like what?"

"Just anything. You said you have known her since she rescued you, yes?"

"Yes, when I was very little, almost a baby."

"Where does she live?"

"Just in the river. The river is her home."

"Is there somewhere she sleeps at night? Or anywhere she spends a lot of time?"

Maria thought about it. "Not that I know of. But she comes to see me so I guess she spends a lot of time near our house. But she hasn't come since she took Mr. Burns. I think maybe they are trying to make a baby."

Trakker ignored the girl's comment. "How often did she come before she took Mr. Burns?"

"Every few days, and we would play and swim and she would sometimes bring a big fish for my family to eat."

"And did she talk to you?"

"Of course."

"Did she ever say where she came from?"

"She tells me that she came from a long way away—somewhere far up the Mother River. That's what she always says."

"What has she told you about her home...about her family?"

"She said that when she was little she lived in a big lake with her family and other fishpeople families."

"And now she lives here. Why did she come here?"

Maria sighed. "She said she didn't want to live here. She said that one day when she had gone to the Mother River with her friends, they were playing with the ropes a boat was dragging. And she got caught in it. Her foot was stuck and she could not escape. The boat pulled her for days and that was how she came to São Miguel." Maria reached down and began rubbing her ankle.

"How long ago was this?"

"Many years. Long before I was born."

"And she did not try to return home?"

"She said she tried, but it was such a long way and she was so little and so scared."

"I see." Trakker could already envision Sector whipping out a map and studying the Amazon basin, trying to decide where the creature originated when he shared this bit of information. It would make sense for the River Princess to seek out a human mate, so long separated from her own kind. "Are you sure she doesn't have a home or a nest somewhere nearby?"

Maria shook her head yet again. "If she did I guess she would have taken Mr. Burns there."

"That's what I was thinking." He took Maria's hand and squeezed it. "If she does come back, could you tell her how worried we are about our friend?"

"I will," she said, smiling up at him and then looking again through the bag of candy.

"If you can't find us at the cottages by the river, you can find Mr. Lopez at the clinic near the big church. He is working there now."

"Yes. Doctor Lopez. Everyone knows he is there, the foreign doctor who asks everyone about Mr. Burns who fell into the river." She giggled, apparently well aware of this cover story. The whole town is now looking for Mr. Burns."

Trakker smiled. Lopez had been quite right. This was a better way to go searching.

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 9: "Saturday"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	9. Saturday

**Chosen**

**-o-o-o-o-o-**

**Chapter 9 : Saturday**

**Breakfast was eaten in silence that morning. No one seemed to feel like talking. There were none of the usual words of encouragement or optimism. Even Hayes' seemingly indefatigable enthusiasm had succumbed to the gravity of having lost an agent. **

-o-o-o-o-o-

Burns woke that morning to the patter of rain and the rumble of distant thunder. "How appropriate," were his first words of the day.

"Saturday..." He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself. Presuming they began searching for him last Friday, the search would be over.

And so they were gone...either having left last night or heading out this morning. "So what now, Wilson?" He stared up at the corrugated metal roof above him. Nature had decorated it with cobwebs and discarded cocoons. "Build a raft and float away? Torch something big enough to attract attention? Settle down and raise a family with his monstrous mate? Swim for it...again?" He had tried twice to escape by swimming downstream, following the current. It would have to lead him somewhere. The first time she had found him fairly quickly and had dragged him home. The second time he had tried to elude her by moving on land where he could, but he found the travel far too slow and the insects too friendly, and after a while he discovered that she was right there, lurking in the water, stalking him quietly, waiting for him to give up. And so he did, walking back into the water and letting her haul him upstream to the shack.

Burns dragged himself out of the bed and went to the door, marking another streak with a piece of charcoal on the lintel.

He pulled on the long-sleeved shirt, one of the two shirts that Melusine had brought him. Though she lived as naked as any fish in the river, she seemed to have an intense curiosity about clothing. Sometimes she would watch him take pieces on or off, or study the fastenings. The other morning she took the shirt he was laundering in the river and spent nearly half an hour playing with the buttons on it, teaching herself how to fasten and unfasten them.

Not that he had much clothing for her to play with. There was the camp shirt, swimtrunks, and water-moccasins he had arrived in, and she had supplemented his wardrobe with a woman's apron, a baby's dress, the tattered straw hat, and the two shirts. He had laughed at the floral apron when she presented it, and then he put it on her. And it was with some pride that she wore it most of the day. Now it hung on a nail in the cabin.

Burns walked out to the porch of his cabin and sat down on the wobbly chair. The grey sky stretched seamlessly from horizon to horizon. "I think I'll just stay home today... make a big pot of coffee... catch up on my email... maybe catch a game on T.V. or something." He sighed, wondering where the others were. Perhaps loading up the vehicles onto the transport. Perhaps already home. "Maybe I'll shave," he said scratching his fuzzy chin. There were two razors in the cabin, one rusted beyond use, and the other still sealed into plastic. He reached up and ran his fingertips through his hair. Normally he went to a barber religiously every other Friday morning, and he had been summoned just before the next visit. So now his hair felt strangely long, and what would be a cropped thatch was now turning into a headful of ruddy-brown curls.

A splash caught his attention and he looked down the beach to see Melusine coming up out of the water with her net bag slung across her chest, the fishwoman smiling at him. Her delight in the rain was obvious, and halfway up the beach she stopped to turn her face up into it, her mouth open and her eyes closed.

And then she approached the cabin, setting down her bag and opening it up in the first part of their morning ritual. First she brought out a fish, a species he didn't recognize, but it looked edible enough. She presented it to him, and he placed it into the tub of water beside the porch stairs. If the rain stopped he could cook it...if not he could eat it tomorrow.

Then out came a liquor bottle and she handed it to him. He read the label. "Cachaça. Going to get me drunk and take advantage of me?" he asked. "And sealed too." Two bottles of water followed, and then a gaudy plastic package. The previous day she had brought a bag of potato chips, and together they had enjoyed the salt and the fat, something neither got much of in their current diet. But this package proved to be laundry soap. "Oh well. I can use this anyway."

Her final presentation was apparently the best, for she had wrapped it into a large green leaf to protect it. She opened the leaf with much care and pulled out a set of snail shells strung onto a piece of fishing line—a necklace for him. She smiled broadly, her sharp white teeth showing as she leaned forward and put it around his neck, much pleased with herself.

Burns looked down at it and fingered some of the shells. For snail shells they were fairly colorful. Holes had been very carefully bored across the spirals...just like the necklace worn by the man in the picture. "You made this for me, didn't you?" he remarked.

Melusine then set down her empty bag and went into the cabin and looked at the picture of the kissing couple. She beckoned him in and then pulled him up behind her, her eyes still focused on the picture. The man did wear the same necklace of tropical land snail shells, each strung end to end on a single strand. Outside the rain began to fall harder, the light shower becoming a downpour.

Melusine very deliberately arranged the two of them in imitation of the picture, pulling one of his arms halfway around her waist and opening one hand over her crotch, sliding her hip in front of his. And then she tried to arrange her arms to mimic the position of the woman in the picture, becoming somewhat frustrated as her proportions were rather different. She was taller and had longer limbs and so did not line up with her mate as well as the dark-haired pin-up beauty did with hers. But eventually she was satisfied and turned her head to look into Burn's face, and stood there some time gazing into his slate blue eyes, looking even darker in the gloom of the unlit cabin and cloudy day outside. Her golden irises shone as old brass despite the low light.

For a while Burns wondered if her species put the same meaning into the activity as humankind did. Or was she simply studying him with her usual curiosity?

And then she leaned in, trying to touch her lips to his.

Burns spun out of her grasp and stepped away. "Sorry..." he said, somewhat guiltily for denying her the wish to complete the picture.

A disappointed noise escaped her throat, catching Burns off-guard. It was a new sound he'd not heard her make before. "I know. You brought me some nice gifts today and were hoping maybe you'd win me over. I suppose that would work for most guys. I mean, what guy doesn't love to get a package of laundry detergent?" He sighed and stepped back out of the shack onto the porch, listening to the music of the rain against the rusting metal roof.

She followed him out, but instead of stopping she walked out into the heavy rain, lifting her face and opening her mouth to inhale it, bending back to expose and open the gill-covers over her ribcage.

"I suppose you like the rain. It lets you stay longer on land...makes you more like us." He picked up the bottle of cachaça from where he had set it on the porch, broke the seal, and took a swig out of the bottle. "Drinking before breakfast, and out of the bottle too," he snickered. "This is bad. See what you've driven me to?"

-o-o-o-o-o-

Breakfast was eaten in silence that morning. No one seemed to feel like talking. There were none of the usual words of encouragement or optimism. Even Hayes' seemingly indefatigable enthusiasm had succumbed to the gravity of having lost an agent. Sector had not even shown up for breakfast. Even the weather seemed to be in the same mood. It had been raining since before dawn.

Seven full days of searching for Burns had yielded nothing. He had been snatched on Friday. The search began officially on Saturday. And now it was Saturday again...the morning of going home. As it had come down through the PNA to all of the various auxiliary operations, teams were given a week to hunt for lost members. After that, the cases could be turned over to local authorities who probably wouldn't have more involvement than posting a notice where ever they deemed appropriate.

The silence was broken by a sudden "Oh goodness! The clinic opens in fifteen minutes!" from Lopez. He tossed aside his newspaper, threw back the last of his coffee, grabbed his bag, and ran out the door. His morning departures always felt like something straight out of a sitcom.

Somberly they packed up their things and headed for the airport, Trakker phoning a quick goodbye to Lopez as they stood on the tarmac. "Good luck, Julio. I hope you hear something."

"I hope so too. I'm sure I've got the whole town looking for him now."

"Call me if you learn anything."

"Of course. Have a safe trip home. Goodbye."

Trakker switched off his phone and walked up into the transport, some of the hardest steps he had ever had to take. Fortune had always been with him regarding the team, and while there had been injuries and close calls, every agent had come home at the end of a mission. But this time, Lady Fortune had turned her head, and Calhoun Burns had been lost.

-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 10: "Waterlilies"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	10. Waterlilies

**Chosen**

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 10: Waterlilies**

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Far from paradise  
Your life may change  
The white dream  
May betray you**

**Days are longer  
In this new era  
Time's running behind you  
Without looking back**

**Far from paradise  
Never say:  
From this water  
I shall not drink**

You may believe this  
Or you may not  
You may sense life  
Or just wait and let it pass by

Dreams, your dreams  
Our dreams, white dreams

Nothing's gonna change the world  
Only your expression  
Time's running behind you  
Without looking back

**Far from paradise  
Never say:  
From these waters  
I shall not drink**

You can see the sun  
Burning my skin  
You may see the rain  
Soothing my needs

Burning my skin

White dream, my dream  
your dream, our dream...

Far from paradise  
Never say:  
From these waters  
I shall not drink 

**-Lyrics from "Far From Paradise (Heaven Voices Mix)" by Seoan**

-o-o-o-o-o-

Burns had just finished his afternoon meal of the fish Melusine brought him that morning and was washing his plate when she came out of the river. "Melusine!" he gasped, realizing what she was wearing.

It was her imitation of the picture in the cabin, the picture of the kissing couple. Atop her head was a crown of greenery bejeweled with purple-blue water hyacinth blossoms. Around her shoulders was a floral wreath of cream-colored waterlilies. The petals were touched with a soft pink blush while butter-yellow centers matched the lighter areas of the membranes between the spines of her fins. And he hated to admit it, but she looked quite beautiful.

In fact over the past week he had noticed that her color seemed to have changed somewhat. Where she had been unremarkable before, she was now noticeably brighter. Where she had been colorful, the hues were now intense. The tawny yellow fins now seemed quite solidly sunshine yellow, as did the areas above her eyes and up across her forehead. The cream-colored centers of her eye-spots had turned opaque white. The rusty red of her upper surfaces had brightened while the faint stripes in her pattern had darkened.

She came up to him, his costume in her hand—a crown of leaves dotted with white and pink orchids. He set his plate and fork into the sand and Melusine lowered the leafy headdress onto his brow. Smiling, she then stood back and admired him.

"Thank you," he said. "It's very pretty." He reached out to touch the lilies across her chest, large blossoms that hid her lower gills. His fingers brushed against the petals—waxy, pristine, and scentless. Then he touched her brow, framed by ferns and hyacinths. "You went to a a lot of trouble. These are beautiful."

She shuffled a bit closer to him and took his hand, placing it under her chin between her gill slits. She shut her eyes and leaned close to him.

Burns felt a wave of tension seize him from head to toe. Things were suddenly going to get awkward.

Damn that picture. He should have burned it when he first noticed that she looked at it every time she entered the cabin, and especially after her posing session last week.

He took a breath. No sense in fighting her. Just get it over with.

Burns gently leaned in and placed his lips to hers, kissing her delicately a couple of times. Pulling back, he noticed her gill-covers were fluttering and her eyes were innocently wide and bright. Suddenly the nervousness was gone. And perhaps she had been as nervous about the whole thing as he was. He chuckled and wiped off his lips with the back of his hand. "Your first kiss, I suppose. You'll probably be expecting me to ask you to prom now."

She closed her eyes again and leaned in, wanting another taste.

He kissed Melusine once more and decided it was like kissing someone that had been outdoors a while in the winter. Her lips were stiff and cool even if her heart was ardent.

Melusine was the one to break the second set of kisses. As suspected, the need to wet her gills and eyes was stronger than her need for affection. She moved down into the water, floating just below the surface, and from the river she watched him put away the plate and fork and toss another log onto the fire.

Burns picked up the bottle of cachaça and poured some into his glass. The moment had not been completely repulsive, and was much less like kissing a fish than he had expected. In fact, in this respect she seemed almost human. It wouldn't be too difficult to do again if she wanted.

Melusine, soon feeling refreshed and rehydrated came up from the water as he finished his drink, the late afternoon sunlight turning the water dripping from her floral ornaments into droplets of gold and her skin into radiant copper. She took him by the wrist and led him into the cabin.

As expected, she went straight to the picture on the wall and studied it.

As dreaded, she decided that the swimtrunks he had been living in needed to come off.

Burns pushed her hands away as she tried to tug them down, but she insisted and would not stop in her attempt. Gritting his teeth, he loosened the tie and undressed.

It was a strange feeling, standing there completely naked save for his necklace of snail shells and a hat of leaves and orchids, and even stranger to think of whom he was sharing this moment with—the fish monster that had kidnapped him, the ichthoid cryptid that had chosen him as her mate, the one he had just kissed. He felt terribly vulnerable. Carefully she placed herself in front of him and began to position their bodies into the pose of the amorous pair in the picture. And when Melusine felt they had achieved it, she pulled his head toward hers and kissed him, just like in the picture.

Burns sighed and told himself to enjoy it...as long as she didn't try to French kiss him. But then she turned and pulled her body tightly against his. Her webbed hands enclosed his shoulders. Her tongue stroked his neck playfully. It didn't take a degree in ichthyology or aquatic ecology or potamology to understand the look in her eyes and the thoughts in her head.

Breaking contact she again returned to the water, again her physiology interfering with her love-life. Though this time she kept a hold of him and tried to lead him into the river with her. Burns only went halfway, stopping at the table he had placed near the firepit, and he noticed that he was trembling.

The questions started again, but from another point of view this time. Why am I so afraid? Why do I keep dreading this moment? She isn't going to hurt me. There is no one about watching. Besides, people had done far worse and far more disgusting things. So why am I so afraid?

Why do I let this dread keep me a prisoner?

She beckoned to him from the river, crouched in the water amidst her floral array.

No, this wouldn't be rape. This would be compliant. No, it would be better than compliant. It would be willing—entered into with eyes wide open and an enthusiastic curiosity.

"All right, Princess," Burns said confidently, pointing at her where she waited in the water for him. "You wanted a human mate? Well now you've got one, and I'm going to show you all about me." He grabbed the bottle of cachaça and took a big swig before corking it again. A little liquid courage would certainly help at this moment.

As he walked down to the water, she rose slightly and her smile was obvious. She swam into the shallows to meet him, taking his wrist and leading him in. And soon they were in a typical pose, Melusine stretched once again across his lap. He looked down at her through the rippling veil of water as her golden eyes stared back up into his deep blue ones. And for the first time he saw her for what she really was—a lonely woman in love with him. Somewhere deep beneath the scales and claws and fins was a beating heart. And somewhere deeper yet, where no surgeon or scientist could ever find it, was a soul.

He slipped his hand beneath her wreath of waterlilies and spread his fingers atop her chest. Her pectoral gill-slits fluttered excitedly beneath his fingers.

Slowly he drew up his knees, raising her to him. His hand eased beneath her head again and lifted it from the water. He kissed her, this time of his own determination, not of hers. No longer was he at her mercy, no longer allowing his fears and mores to control him. He kissed her cheeks and her eyelids and ran the tip of his nose gently along the edges of her spines and gill-covers. He stroked her smooth scales and teased her fins with his fingertips.

Melusine reached out and caught an orchid that had fallen from his crown and was slowly floating away on the surface. She sat up and playfully stroked his face with the petals, until he took it and did the same to her. "You really are beautiful," he said pausing to look into her eyes once again. Burns caught her delicately under the chin and turned her face to the setting sun. "It just took me a long time to see it. I hope you'll forgive my blindness." And then he tossed aside the orchid, rolled her onto her back, and pulled her up to slightly shallower water. He chuckled. "And here they always told us love was blind."

Gripping her upper arms tightly, he kissed her again, her brownish lips barely above the calm surface of the water, their limbs entwined against the sand. Civilization had abandoned him, leaving behind the primal man-of-land.

-o-o-o-o-o-

When it was over, Burns lay on the beach trying to sort out his thoughts on what had just occurred with Melusine. Pushing his fingers into the sand, he realized that he felt somewhat relieved it had happened. The paralyzing fear of such an encounter had vanished. And like those first kisses, it had not been even as close to repulsive as expected. She had a waist and hips and surprisingly recognizable female anatomy tucked away well out of sight.

She was gone now, having swum away after the long cool-down cuddle that had followed. He expected she was hungry after all that. The crumpled remains of her wreath and crown had been left in the shallow water at the edge of the beach.

His crown of orchids still sat on his head, and he pulled it off, admiring the strange structure of the blossoms in the light of the fire. There was an inescapable sensuality to their waxy forms, at least to the ones that hadn't been damaged in their moments of passion.

He sighed. The tabloids would pay a fortune for his story. Kiss and tell... Book offers... "I Married the Creature." "Prisoner of the Monster." Appearances on off-beat talk shows seated next to victims of alien abduction. "And were any children born of this encounter, Mr. Burns? Or did she lay eggs afterward?"

No. That was not him. These past couple hours were his secret to keep. He and his mermaid alone shared the memories. Not even Trakker would be keeping this secret. He poured himself a small cup of the strong drink, downed it quickly, and staggered up the beach to the shack, wondering what the after-effects on his psyche would be, whether he would sleep well or fitfully.

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 11: "Fears"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	11. Fears

**Chosen**

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 11: Fears**

**Melusine shuddered. That would happen to her mate, the Beetle-Guide. He would die of his sickness and the insects and birds would devour him.**

-o-o-o-o-o-

Burns woke at the touch of Melusine's wide hand on his chest. Usually she returned from her nocturnal hunting trip after he had woken, but this time she had caught him sleeping. Last night had been anything but routine, so he really couldn't be that surprised. Her cold wet hands pawed at him, but it felt good, especially on his forehead. His head hurt and he felt hot. He reached up and held her hand over his forehead and eyes, enjoying the clamminess of her touch for once.

As his consciousness rose, he realized he wasn't hungover, but that he actually seemed to be sick. The feverish aching of his body and the queasy feeling in his stomach hinted at flu. But there were plenty of tropical diseases and jungle fevers that could be responsible for his condition. Had he caught something from her? He sighed and stroked Melusine's scaly skin. Besides a bottle of aspirin there were no medications in the cabin. He would just have to tough it out.

Melusine sat with him as long as she could before needing to return to the water. Throughout the morning she constantly left the water to check on him, eventually lifting him from the bed and carrying him to the river. "I'm up! I'm up!" he protested, but she held him down, somehow knowing that the water would cool his elevated body temperature. After a while, he ceased his squirming and just lay in her arms, his face above the water, closing his eyes against the strong sunlight.

And suddenly he began to shiver violently, and he swam from her hands and crawled onto the beach, lying in the warm sand for some time like a beached castaway. She crawled up and lay beside him, some misguided parody of the evolutionary process, and stroked her wide hand across his bare back.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"You know, since we returned from Brazil, I just can't look at these fellows the same way," remarked Sector, staring into a large tank of tropical fish. He opened the tank lid and dropped several pinches of chopped chicken into the water. The fish inside swam forward and ate it excitedly. Seconds later several catfish appeared from beneath a hollowed-out log and inhaled the larger pieces. "I close my eyes and I can still see her there, swimming just off of the boat looking up at us, so elegant and elemental, like some Devonian Esther Williams.

"The girl you can't get off of your mind?" asked Trakker liltingly.

Sector chuckled. "I guess so. I will admit it's been quite a while since I've met a woman I've been quite so fascinated by."

"Likewise." And then he laughed aloud. "I think you and I need to get out a little more." Trakker leaned forward and watched a school of graceful angelfish saunter by in another tank. "I keep wondering about where she came from...what her people are like."

Sector paused from feeding the fish in the next tank and reached into his pocket, pulled out a notepad, flipped it open to a particular page, and handed it to Trakker.

He read aloud. "An upper tributary of the Amazon... small population—500 to 2000 individuals at most... trade based economy if any... tight social structure... strong sense of family and extended family... protein based diet... endothermic... oviparous..." Trakker closed the notebook. "I see you've been thinking about it as well.

"Would you have expected otherwise?" Trakker handed back the notebook and Sector tucked it back into his pocket. "Admittedly I did call you down here with the intent of discussing this with you."

"Mmmm?" Trakker's attention turned to another tank, this one housing a breeding pair of discus fish.

"If we can contact her again, through Maria, I think we might be able to make her an offer. If we will take her upriver to find her own kind, she may be persuaded to give us Calhoun back."

"I'd love to, but the Amazon basin's a big place. We could spend a decade or two looking for her home."

"I thought about that, but I'm certain she can guide us right to it."

Trakker flashed him a puzzled look.

"She's got to have a strong sense of smell...fish do. You saw how quickly those catfish came out. I think that if we get her close enough to home, she'll be able to pick up the scent of where she was born and raised."

"Just like a salmon returning to the river it was spawned in..."

"We could start at Manaus and work up the river from there."

"A brilliant plan, Alex...if we are able to contact her again. Julio said that she's not even been around to talk to Maria.

"If we did get the opportunity, would you think it would work?"

"Completely...if we get the opportunity."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Days later, Burns lay on his side staring out the door watching the rising sun bring light to the marshes and river courses. The alternating bouts of chills and heat had kept him awake through the night, exhausting him though he simply lay there. Yesterday he thought perhaps he had shaken whatever malady had gotten him, for his temperature had gone down and he felt somewhat recovered. But in the evening, the high fever was back for a third time, leaving him feeling the worst ever. The queasiness had returned to his stomach making him wonder if he should drag himself outside and try to vomit. Though what would it accomplish? His stomach was empty. He had eaten nothing since the previous afternoon.

Melusine returned as the sun rose slightly higher. He smiled at her as she came up to the cabin and knelt beside the bed. In her net bag were three oranges and a gorgeous peacock bass. They had learned that these feisty fish were his favorite to eat but were a challenge for her to catch. It was obvious this was a gift she hoped would raise his spirits. But as she took it from the bag, the bass wriggling in her hands, he rolled away from her. "I'm sorry...I'm too sick to eat fish."

She looked down at the refused meal, knowing that his sickness was growing worse. She replaced the bass and took out the oranges, and was pleased to see him take one from her hand and begin to peel it. She still hated the scent of them, but at least he was eating something.

Melusine rose and went back down to the water, sliding along the channel and swimming to the deeper area beyond the sandbar. She crouched on the river bottom and ate the bass as she looked up at the river surface above.

The horrible thoughts returned...the drowned man-of-land...

Thirteen floods ago, she had found him floating in the river, barely alive.

He was weak and only slightly conscious. She had dragged him onto the riverbank where he lay barely moving. He would not eat. He hardly opened his eyes. When the sun grew hot, she dragged him into the shade, where he ceased to move altogether.

The man-of-land looked horrible in death—grey and bloated. The insects crawled upon his body, laying their eggs for their larva to feast upon it or eating it themselves. Vultures came later and picked his flesh from his bones.

Melusine shuddered. That would happen to her mate, the Beetle-Guide. He would die of his sickness and the insects and birds would devour him.

And for the first time since she had brought him to the island she felt the darkness of solitude again, and it made her heart ache.

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 12: "Good News"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	12. Good News

**Chosen**

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 12: Good News**

**Maria looked out over the water with her eyes focused on some indiscernible horizon. "Right now she is very worried that she might lose her mate. That is why she holds so tightly to him. Before she met him she felt so lonely." **

-o-o-o-o-o-

Lopez noticed that his walk had that inescapable "spring in his step"as he made his way to the clinic that morning. True. He was in a good mood, the best he'd felt since the cargo had been drawn up from the bottom of the river. But a short lived moment of success that had been. The Princess seized her chosen reward, snatching Burns away, followed immediately by Switchblade bearing down upon them. Since then smiles had been difficult...until now.

Last night his daily Portuguese lesson had taken an unexpected turn, and Nurse Márcia Almeida had taught him quite a few words and phrases he was certain never to need at the clinic. And as she pulled her clothing back on afterward, she had smiled at him and said: "Your luck's about to change. I can feel it."

"I think it's already changed," he had responded and then grinned and reached out to slap her playfully on the thigh.

"Hey!" she squawked and turned to face him, but he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back into the bed. She giggled and squirmed as he held her down kissing her neck and shoulders. But then she lay still looking up at the ceiling. "I can feel it in the wind. There will be good news for you tomorrow. Maybe you'll find your friend."

"Maybe," he said, unfastening the buttons on her blouse for the second time that night.

Márcia sighed. "But then you'll leave me."

"Don't talk about an uncertain future. Just enjoy the present."

"Is that your prescription for me, Doctor?"

"One of them," he had whispered softly, catching her earlobe between his lips.

He passed the market, people waving and wishing him well. The people here were so friendly. Only two and a half weeks had turned him from a stranger into a respected pillar of the community. Passing the church and the polychrome Madonna statue in the fountain he breathed a quick prayer for his lost teammate, and then one of thanks. Even Mary's placid expression seemed to carry more of a smile today.

Arriving at the clinic, he winked at Márcia in the hallway and went right into the treatment room that he had been assigned. Entering, he was startled to find someone already waiting for him. There was Maria, sitting in a chair with her grandfather dozing in the chair next to her.

"You must help him," she said, her low voice and dilated pupils indicating that it was the River Princess addressing him.

"Help who?"

"The Beetle-Guide...my mate."

Lopez set down his bag and went and squatted before her. "What help does he need?"

"He is sick. His skin is hot. I touch him and he feels like the sunshine. He isn't eating much. He wouldn't leave the bed this morning."

"Take me to him. I am a doctor. I can make him well."

"No! You will steal him from me."

"I suppose bringing him here is also out of the question."

The Princess nodded.

"Then how can I help him? Let me go to him. He is no good to you if he dies."

She whimpered and recoiled, the statement hitting hard. "Give me some medicine to help him. Maria says there are medicines that make the men-of-land well."

"I can, but you must tell me exactly what is wrong with him." Julio grabbed a notepad and a pen and perched on the end of the treatment table.

The River Princess began to describe the symptoms, and it was quickly obvious that Burns had contracted malaria, probably of the P. vivax variety, the most common disease in these parts. "I will prepare some medicine for him, but you must take it right to him. He has a serious sickness and it requires immediate attention. Where are you?"

"I am in the river outside the town. I will come to the boat docks."

"I will have Maria bring you the medicine there. Watch for her there."

"All right. Please hurry. I don't want him to die."

"He won't if you do as I say."

Maria's eyes returned to normal and she sat there in her usual post-possession daze. Lopez immediately began packing up a kit to send to Burns, finding a case that could be made waterproof and filling it with Chloroquine and Primaquine tablets as well as instructions to Burns and a small bottle of ibuprofen. And then he opened his bag. Keeping his back to Maria, he took a small case from inside it.

Sector had left three homing devices for him to use should an opportunity like this arise. He took one of the three, activated it, and carefully slipped it into a packet containing a surgical gauze bandage and tucked it alongside the pills.

Opening up his computer next, he opened the tracking program and verified that the homing device was working. Sure enough, a little red dot appeared first over northeastern Brazil, and zooming in, it was soon at the corner of Rua Carlos de Carvalho and Rua Treze de Julho. If the Princess followed his instructions, soon that little red dot would be leading him straight to where ever she was keeping Burns.

It was bad news that Calhoun was sick with malaria, but if it were not for that very same thing, he would not be sending this little infiltrator out right now. The good news outweighed the bad.

Márcia had been right about good news. Tonight he was going to take her into Macapá and to the nicest restaurant he could find.

The package closed and sealed, he turned to Maria. "Let's go. We have to take this quickly."

"All right." She shook her grandfather awake and the three of them walked down to the docks. Maria led them down to the marina were things were quieter, and Lopez spotted the River Princess hiding between two boats. He placed the package in Maria's hands. "Please tell her that she needs to take this to her mate right away. The sooner he gets this medication, the better."

Maria did so, shyly handing the plastic case to the fishwoman. Long scaly arms reached up and took it from her. There was a pause as the two simply stared at each other, and then Maria glanced back at Lopez. "She says she will swim her fastest to him."

Lopez smiled. "Excellent. Tell her to come back tomorrow, and I will have more medicine for him."

Maria paused again, and then: "She says that she loves him." The River Princess smiled at Julio, blinking her golden eyes deliberately slowly at him. Her colors seemed brighter than he remembered.

"I know. But if she really loved him, she would bring him here. Tell her that."

Maria did, and the River Princess' smile turned to a scowl. She pulled the package to her chest and dove into the water.

Lopez sighed. "Maria, I have to get back to work at the clinic now. Thank you for coming to me."

Maria took his hand, and then suddenly she hugged him. "The Princess is my best friend. The Beetle-Guide makes her happy. If you can save his life, she will stay happy for a long time."

Lopez knelt down and placed his hands on her shoulders. "She has placed us in a difficult situation, but I will do what I can for my friend. Maybe someday the Princess will realize that she has made a poor choice in kidnapping Mr. Burns."

"I feel it when she is happy. When she is sad, I cannot help but cry."

He paused. It had not occurred to him that the psychic link would extend to emotions as well. "What do you feel now? What is the Princess feeling?"

"Now?"

"Yes."

Maria looked out over the water with her eyes focused on some indiscernible horizon. "Right now she is very worried that she might lose her mate. That is why she holds so tightly to him. Before she met him she felt so lonely." And after a few more moments, she turned back to the doctor. "She is gone now."

"Thank you again, Maria. Come find me at the clinic when she returns."

Lopez hurried back, immediately sitting down at the computer to see where the package was heading. Sure enough, it was there, currently crossing the main stream of the Amazon. He kept one eye on the direction as he pulled out his phone. "Matt! Good news!" he said excitedly when the other end was picked up.

"You found him?"

"Almost. How soon can you get down here?"

"Not soon enough."

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 13: "Danger in the Darkness"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	13. Danger in the Darkness

**Chosen**

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 13: Danger in the Darkness**

**She cried to the southern wind  
About a love that was sure to end  
Every dream in her heart was gone  
Heading for a showdown **

**From "Showdown" by Electric Light Orchestra, **

-o-o-o-o-o-

Lopez's phone began to vibrate in the pocket of his sports coat and he fished it out. "Excuse me a moment," he said to Márcia. "I've been expecting this."

A gentle smile flitted across her lips, but her eyes showed a bit of sadness. He had told her the good news of finding Burns and that a party would be arriving late tonight to rescue their lost comrade. But the recovery of Burns meant the loss of her lover. The doctor would depart, returning to the north from whence he came, leaving her behind. He was everything she head hoped for in a man: kind, generous, intelligent, playful, educated, and employed. And while she had known from the start that his visit would be temporary one, she had fallen hopelessly for him, and the more she fell the more she had lived in denial of his inevitable departure.

Lopez left his chair and walked to the balcony of the restaurant where he answered the call. "Olá Chefe."

"Heya," said Trakker. "The captain just told to return our seats to their full upright position and to lock our tray tables away. Where are you at?"

"Just having dinner in Macapá, waiting for you to arrive."

"Want to meet us at the airport? We didn't bring Firefly, but we do have Raven again, all the dents fixed and a fresh coat of paint."

"I'll trade Dusty's redneck-mobile for Raven any day." They had left Gator behind for Lopez to use while in São Miguel.

"I heard that!" said Hayes accusingly.

Lopez laughed. "You know I'm kidding. Actually, I'll just head back into Macapá. I have my Portuguese tutor here with me...no need to complicate things."

Hayes' ears perked up. "That curvy redhead nurse?"

"The same."

"Hmmm...you'd better come to the airport. You can have Raven and I'll take her home in Gator for you," laughed Hayes.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Following the signal and the location pinpointed by Lopez earlier that day, Gator and Raven made their way to a quiet section of the Amazon, far off of the main channel and away from any human settlements. Then they turned up an unnamed tributary, heading several miles upstream to an island separated from the mainland by wide streams of water. "This is it," announced Scott, pointing at the small island as he looked up from the blue-lit display on the tracking system. His father had brought him along on the recovery mission.

Trakker eased up on the throttle and let the boat drift closer. "There seems to be some sort of structure there," he noted. He turned Raven's spotlight toward the low island where the beam caught the shack built on stilts.

"I'll bet he's in there," said Scott. "The homing device appears to be."

"Maria, can you sense the River Princess?" Trakker asked, putting his hand on her shoulder. She and Scott were squeezed onto the front seat.

The girl shook her head.

"Maria says the Princess isn't around, so we'll go see if Cal's here. But keep alert." He turned to the girl. "Maria, let us know if you sense her. If you do tell us as soon as you know."

"Hopefully Mrs. Burns doesn't give us too much trouble, " said Hayes to Lopez, riding in Gator beside him.

"If she does, I'll try to stick her to a tree or something. I don't want to hurt her, but I'm afraid she might be belligerent if she finds us here."

"I could use Gator's water cannon or a low-power blast from Backlash on her."

"That would probably work."

Trakker nudged Raven to shore, and hopped out. "Scott, stay here in the boat with Maria. I need you to work the spotlight."

"Okay, Dad." he said and climbed nimbly across the center console into the driver's seat.

Gator pulled up beside them just as Trakker was pulling on his mask. Immediately the visor lit up with the eerie glow produced by the night-vision scanners. Hayes did the same. Lopez picked up the lantern he had brought with him and turned it on, lifting it in one hand with his mask tucked beneath the opposite arm.

Cautiously they advanced on the cabin. On entering, were relieved to find Burns there, lying on his back in the bed, the sheet pulled over him. Lopez handed the lamp to Trakker and rushed to the bedside. "Calhoun! Calhoun!" He shook Burns' arm gently, noting the feverish temperature to his skin.

Burns woke moaning and blinking at the light. Then a smile of recognition crossed his face as his eyes focused on the three figures around his bed. "Hello. Welcome to my new home," he said weakly. "Are you here for the housewarming party?"

Matt pulled off his glove and clasped the man's hand. "Good to see you again, Cal. We're going to get you out of here," he said quietly. "Get you back to civilization."

"That would be nice," Burns smiled. "I'm dying for a cup of coffee."

"And here I thought you had malaria," grinned Lopez, making a joke of the statement. Going through the contents of the package he had sent that morning, he noted that Burns had taken the tablets for that day as instructed.

Burns' eyes suddenly opened wide, a touch of fear playing in them. "Where is she?" he gasped.

"She's not here. We don't know where she is."

He took a breath and slumped back down. "Probably out hunting. She seems to be primarily nocturnal."

"Calhoun. Are you all right? Has she hurt you?"

"No...not intentionally at least. Just a few scratches from her claws." His hand flopped up to his chest and stroked the long half-healed streaks of red on his skin. "But she's very strong, and she guards me jealously. If she hears a boat or an airplane she grabs me and hides me from it."

"No wonder we couldn't find you earlier. And we passed over this area at least twice."

He closed his eyes and smiled. "I heard you searching for me. It gave me hope."

"I'm sorry we had to leave though. You know what the PNA says."

"But Julio stayed...I owe you one," he said reaching for the doctor.

Lopez took his hand. "I got a job in town and just stayed at the cottage."

"You sent me the package of medicine."

"Yes. The River Princess went to Maria for help, and Maria came to me."

"C'mon. Let's get him out of here," said Trakker.

And just as he went to pull Burns' arm over his shoulder Maria began shouting from outside. "She's coming! She's coming!"

"Damn!" Trakker cursed. "Let's hurry."

They got Burns up and draped between Lopez's and Trakker's shoulders and carried him to the door.

"She knows I'm here!" cried Maria frightfully. "She knows you're here!"

Suddenly Melusine charged out of the water roaring, her arms raised and her bright fins standing on end. She stood there in her aggressive stance surveying the scene, and on spotting her mate in the arms of the masked men she roared again.

"Maria! Tell her not to attack!" Trakker shouted.

"I'm trying to tell her" the girl cried. "She's so angry. You've invaded her nest."

Hayes stepped forward, placing himself between the others and the River Princess. "I'll stop her."

"Don't hurt her," Burns begged.

"Backlash! Power Level 2. Fire!"

Hayes' mask lit up and fired a blast at Melusine, knocking her back several feet. She stumbled in the sand, roaring and flailing her arms as she recovered herself.

Meanwhile Trakker had put Burns' weight onto Lopez's shoulder and had advanced down the stairs of the shack. "Maria, tell her to stop. Tell her not to attack. We don't want to hurt her, but we must defend ourselves."

"Backlash..."

Hayes did not get a chance to finish. Melusine charged him before the command could be completed and grabbed him around the waist. Lifting him into the air, she flung him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. She then grabbed him again and tossed him down the beach toward the boats. Hayes rolled over several times before coming to a stop.

Melusine leapt upon him...just as Backlash fired again, knocking her back once more. Hayes staggered to his feet and shrugged his shoulders in a circular motion, arms coming up like a boxer ready for round two. "Where is she?" he shouted, looking around but not seeing her.

"She dove into the water," yelped Scott, pointing between the two boats.

"She ran away already?" He walked down to the edge of the water as Scott turned the spotlight into the channel.

But she hadn't left. Suddenly she came leaping from the channel again, tackling Hayes, landing on top of him, and clawing at his neck.

Trakker, now halfway down the beach, dreaded what she would do to Hayes with her claws once she tore through his uniform. "Spectrum Laser! Lowest Power. Fire!" Trakker commanded, and a quick burst hit Melusine in the shoulder.

She screamed, looked to where the blast had come from, and launched herself at Trakker. But he had been ready, and grappling each other they rolled over a couple of times before he was able to break free and deliver a kick to the back of a knee just as she was getting up. Gloria would have been proud.

Melusine tumbled to the sand, howling in anger. Maria was screaming at them to stop fighting. Spectrum was lit up and ready to fire, and did as the fishwoman advanced again, but this time she took it full in the chest and kept coming. Seizing Trakker she hoisted him in the air as she had with Hayes.

Lopez had dragged Burns back inside the cabin and hefted him onto the bed.

"No, Julio, help me to stand. I can stop her." Just then they heard Trakker scream, followed by a crash and the sound of splintering wood.

"You're too weak."

"Just help me get to her."

"You can't talk to her. She's not listening."

"She's headed inside," moaned Trakker.

"Help me stand," whimpered Calhoun desperately.

Lopez decided to trust his patient and so grabbed him under the arms and got him standing just as Melusine appeared in the doorway, her terrifying form silhouetted by the spotlight. She growled primally and raised her arms.

"It's all right," Burns told her gently, forcing himself to smile. "I'm all right." He could feel Lopez's hands shifting nervously, and he worked to find a bit of strength to stand. And then he took a step forward.

Her arms came down and she took a step into the cabin.

"I'm here...I'm all right." He stepped forward again and held out his arms to her, and Melusine walked into them. As the mismatched pair embraced Burn's legs gave out and he began to sink. But she held him up, half-dragging, half-carrying him to the bed. "Melusine..." he said softly to her as she placed him there tenderly, her cold hands stroking his heated skin and her raised fins slowly relaxing. "See...nothing's wrong. I'm still here with you," he cooed.

Lopez stared. What had the fever done to Burns? Or what had she done to him? The attitude had completely changed.

"Julio...I've got her," Burns said quietly. "She's just worried about me. Better go check on Matt and Dusty."

Keeping his back to the wall, Lopez slipped out of the shack and found Trakker staggering to his feet amidst the wreckage of what had been a rickety old table near the fire ring. Scott had left Raven and was seeing to Dusty, who was lying on his side holding his ribcage and groaning.

Lopez helped Trakker to his feet and then pulled off Spectrum for him. "Matt, she's in there with Calhoun. He's calming her down. She just appeared to be very worried about him." And then he gasped. "You're bleeding!"

Trakker looked down at himself. Hot blood seeped through the torn canvas of his uniform at his shoulder and upper arm. "She must have gotten me in that fight. Calhoun was right. She is very strong." The two went to the front window of the shack, Trakker clutching his wounds, and pulled open the tattered calico curtain.

On the bed, Melusine cradled her beloved tenderly but hissed at the two other agents when she saw them looking in. Burns reached up to her and stroked her cheek. "It's all right," he whispered.

Julio left the porch and went to Hayes' side, where he was now sitting up checking himself over for injuries. "Anything broken?"

"I don't think so. I've ridden meaner bulls than her, but not by much I'll tell you that." He nodded in the direction of the cabin. "What's going on in there?"

"Calhoun's just calming her down. They're having a little cuddle on the bed."

"Did you say cuddle?"

Lopez grinned. "I think the malaria fever's gotten to him."

Trakker walked down toward the boats. "Maria, can you talk to her now?" he asked. "We need to let her know what's going on."

"I will try again," she said timidly, clinging to Raven's door.

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 14: "Civilization Again"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	14. Civilization Again

**Chosen**

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 14: Civilization Again**

**Márcia giggled. "You've never lived in a small town, have you? Everyone knows about the Princesa do Rio. And everyone in São Miguel knows that you and your friends have been spending a lot of time with Maria Luiz. Someone even saw your group with the fishwoman."**

-o-o-o-o-o-

Burns woke to a scene of motionless sterility. The ceiling above him was pristine white. His pillow was soft and smelled faintly of detergent and bleach. The walls were pale yellow. The air smelled artificial and laced with chemicals and medicines. Beside the bed stood an IV stand, two dripping bags connecting him to this world, cleanliness and sterility and civilization flowing back into his veins. After two and a half weeks in a dilapidated shack on a remote island, the sudden return was culture shock.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and a nurse entered, plump and friendly and somewhere in her forties. She smiled at him and began speaking to him in Portuguese. Deftly she opened the curtains in the high windows, and then began a routine of checking and recording his vital signs.

"Is Dr. Lopez here?" he asked when she had finished.

"Doctor Lopez?" she said slowly.

"Yes, Dr. Lopez. Is he here?"

"No Lopez. He come at nine," she replied, pointing at the clock.

It was about half past seven. "Thank you," he breathed.

"Dr. Lopez...he nice man."

"Yes," he smiled with a nod. He owed a lot to the doctor. While Julio surely had plenty of patients back in California, he had abandoned them to stay in Brazil searching for the missing agent. And thanks to him, he was now here in São Miguel receiving the medical attention he needed.

The nurse left but soon returned with the medications Lopez had prescribed. There had been only three in the package Melusine had delivered, but now there were six waiting on the tray for him.

Another nurse, this one younger and with a red tint to her hair, came in escorting Maria. In Maria's hands was a glass bowl, in which floated a single waterlily.

That moment swirled back to him—Melusine rising from the river iconically, a crown of water hyacinths on her head and a wreath of cream-colored waterlily blooms around her shoulders, their pink blush making up for the lack of a blush in her cheeks, his tanned skin against her ruddy scales.

"She says her heart has been torn in half, and that you have one of those halves." Maria placed the lily in its bowl on the bedside table. "But she understands that you had to leave, or that you would die."

"I don't belong to her world, and she doesn't belong to mine."

"No..."

"Is she here? Can you contact her?"

"She's in the river, lying on the bottom like a dead man." And suddenly Maria sobbed and the tears fell. She grabbed the hem of her dress and tried to blot them away. "It's so dark at the bottom of the river."

"Maria, what's wrong? It's not that bad, is it?"

"I'm sorry," she sniffled. "I feel her emotions, and when she brought the flower, I never felt such sadness before."

Burns reached to her from the bed, tears of sympathy forming in his own eyes. "Tell her I won't leave without seeing her again," he said, squeezing her tiny hand.

-o-o-o-o-o-

When Lopez came in at nine o' clock, Trakker and Hayes were with him, and the men gathered around the bed wishing him well. "How are you feeling now?" Lopez asked first.

"Still awful, but not as bad as I did this time yesterday." He lifted himself on his elbows.

"We're just glad to have you back. Expect some phone calls today. The rest of the team's all been worried about you too."

"I'll be glad to get back. I like a tropical vacation now and then, but that hotel...I'd only give it half a star. I'm in desperate need of a haircut too." He ran his hand through his hair. It hadn't been this long since his college days.

"I'm glad to see that you're in good humor about the whole episode." said Trakker.

"What else can I do? Look back on it and cry?" He heaved a sigh and lay back down again.

The first nurse came in with three cups and a mug of coffee on a tray and set it on the bedside table. "Yes!" exclaimed Burns and immediately sat up again. Trakker propped up the pillows behind him. He took the cup Lopez handed him and sipped from the top, smiling and closing his eyes like a smug cat. "I can't tell you how much I've missed this," he sighed and sipped again.

After drinking their coffee together in silence for a few minutes. Hayes set down his cup and drew a deep breath. "Cal, I want to apologize," he said soberly. "I said far too many things that I shouldn't have on this mission and I still can't help but feel that your kidnapping was partly my fault."

"Dusty, don't worry about it. It's water under the bridge."

"I don't expect you to forgive my stupidity now, but I hope you will someday."

He smiled at the younger man. "Someday... I'm thinking next week... Wednesday perhaps."

Hayes laughed. "I can wait until then."

"Matt, how's your arm?" Burns vaguely remembered seeing Trakker sitting shirtless at the table, an intense light focused on him, and Lopez and the night nurse sewing his shoulder back together. Most of last night had been a blur of images.

He was wearing a sling to keep the weight of his arm off of the wounds. "It hurts but I'll be fine."

"How about you Dusty?"

"Badly bruised but nothing broken." He grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it, revealing a fine collection of welts left by Melusine's claws across his stomach and sides.

"So when are we heading back to the States? When will I be fine to travel?"

"We aren't," replied Trakker.

Burns looked at him, unsure if he had heard the team-leader correctly. "What do you mean?"

"Were going for a little boat ride first. It was part of the condition for your release."

"A boat ride? Whatever for?"

"Oh, just a pleasure cruise up the Amazon. We're going to try to take Melusine home to her people. Alex is already making all the arrangements."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Wednesday morning, after tending to several other patients and checking in on Burns, Julio gave Dr. Salazar da Fonseca his resignation from his duties. "I knew this was coming," said Salazar with a bit of a sigh. "Is there anything I can do or say to keep you around? You've been quite an asset to this clinic." He glanced over at Márcia where she was filling prescriptions at the pharmacy counter. "I'm sure we could arrange for a house and a salary, a nice little place to settle down and raise a family."

Márcia blushed and turned away. Her mother had been asking about the same thing from the moment her daughter had mentioned the volunteer doctor at the clinic.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"So what's next for you?" Márcia asked Lopez later, catching him between patients. "Just going to board that plane and fly away, never to return?"

"Not quite," he said, placing his hands on her hips and giving her a quick peck on the lips. He could get away with it when they were alone. "We're going to take a bit of a river cruise up the Amazon first."

"Take me with you, Julio. Dr. Salazar da Fonseca owes me some vacation time. We can have some time together before you have to go. Some time to say goodbye, since I'd be a fool to think you'll ever be back again."

Lopez glanced about nervously, trying hard not to succumb to her pleading eyes. This was going to be awkward. "We...we will have a passenger aboard of a somewhat unusual nature. It's best if..."

"The River Princess?" she interrupted.

Julio blinked at her. "The River Princess? How do you know about her?"

Márcia giggled. "You've never lived in a small town, have you? Everyone knows about the Princesa do Rio. And everyone in São Miguel knows that you and your friends have been spending a lot of time with Maria Luiz. Someone even saw your group with the fishwoman."

"I'm astounded. I thought it was a secret."

"Small town," she said with a shrug.

"Well, let me ask the chief, if you really think you could get the time off."

"I do want to come, and the River Princess doesn't frighten me. Besides, if you're taking Calhoun along, you'll need some help looking after him."

"Not really, but I'll make sure I tell the chief that I do," he winked at her.

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 15: "Eight Cabins"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	15. Eight Cabins

**Chosen**

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 15: Eight Cabins**

**And as for the boat pilot, he soon got used to the strange passengers aboard the boat, Melusine included. Sector's disguise for her was both ingenious and devious. They had started by telling him they were the actors for a monster movie and gave him a good look at their monster. "Here's the zipper to the suit," said Burns, running his finger along one of Melusine's lateral lines. "You can't even see it. Best monster suit in Hollywood." **

-o-o-o-o-o-

When the MASK transport landed at the Manaus airport, Alex Sector, T-Bob, and Duane Kennedy were there to meet it.

Scott Trakker was the first off of the plane, tearing down the ramp as it opened, leaping from it even before it touched the tarmac. He ran into T-Bob's open arms and hugged the robot hard. "T-Bob I missed you."

"I missed you too. But I had to help Alex make arrangements. Agora eu falo Português."

"What did you say?"

"I said 'now I speak Portuguese' in Portuguese. Bruce programmed me to. Podemos ir para casa agora?"

"I still don't know what you're saying, T-Bob."

"I said...Oh nevermind. I know the answer would just be no as always."

Trakker and Hayes came down the ramp. "Duane, I wasn't expecting to see you here," said the first, rather surprised by the appearance of the PNA liaison.

"I didn't want to miss the chance to see this thing."

"Not a thing...a she," Hayes smirked.

"My apologies," said Kennedy. "Alex has been showing me his photographs of her and I can hardly believe she's real."

"Very real," Burns assured him, coming down the ramp of the plane.

"Calhoun! How are you?"

Burns shook his hand. "I've been better."

"I can believe that. You've had quite an experience."

"That I have."

"So may I see her?"

"Yes. She's just up in a horse trough in the cargo bay, sleeping soundly and keeping nice and wet."

They went up into the cargo hold, and right between Raven and Gator sat the trough holding the fishwoman for transport. Kennedy gave a wave to Lopez, who was sitting nearby with his computer on a pull-down shelf. Burns pulled back the canvas sheet floating inside the trough, revealing Melusine. "Amazing!" Kennedy gasped. He sat down his ubiquitous briefcase and put both of his hands on the rolled metal edge of the huge tub. "May I touch her?"

"Certainly, but gently. She's well sedated, but we don't want to wake her up yet."

Kennedy reached in and dragged the back of his hand over her skin. "Amazing..." he said again. "A real monster." He flipped his hand over and stroked her arm. "Just look at these muscles. I'm surprised she didn't kill you and Dusty."

"All things considered, I'm surprised myself," chuckled Trakker. His hand went to his shoulder and he timidly massaged the wounds she had given him. He still wore the sling.

After staring at her for a few more minutes, Kennedy straightened up and wiped his damp hand on the towel Trakker handed him. "I'll be around for a few more days. I'm heading down to Brasília for an office visit there and to clean up a bit more of the paperwork left from the incident in Belém."

"I can reach you at the PNA office there?"

Kennedy nodded.

"I'm not sure how much we'll be able to contact you, or for you to contact us. I suspect we'll be heading to some pretty remote places on this expedition, but we should still have satellite contact."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Alex drove the truck down to the dock on the Rio Negro where the hired boat and its pilot waited. "You'll absolutely love this. This boat was fitted out for scientific expeditions as well as the tourist trade. So down on the bottom level there's this work room with a large live-well for keeping fish—big enough for a boto."

"Or for keeping fish monsters?" asked Hayes.

Sector winked at him. "Now who would have a fish monster?"

Burns raised his hand. He had been taking the whole thing in a much lighter vein since his return to civilization. Arriving at the docks, he parked the truck and led them along one to a fine looking boat. "Gentlemen, I give you the Red Sunset."

"Oh cool!" approved Scott.

The boat looked typical of the other multi-story tourist boats that plied the Amazon and its tributaries. A lower deck sat just above the waterline, open at the stern with cabins running the length of the ship. The second story held the pilot's cabin at the front, the galley in the middle, and a large glass-enclosed salon for dining and lounging out of the heat and weather. A narrow veranda encircled the second story. The top floor was a large partially-shaded observation deck. There were tables and chairs for the comfort of the passengers. Stairways connected the three levels.

The pilot came out to meet them and Alex introduced him to the others. He was a retired naval officer who took it easy these days, enjoying the leisurely pace of ferrying tourists up and down the murky waters of the Rio Solimões.

The team brought their luggage aboard. And then while Dusty and Maria distracted the pilot, the others wrapped Melusine in the canvas covering her and brought her aboard. They placed her in the live-well and kept her covered. Julio checked her monitors, the readings showing that she was none the worse for wear for all the traveling out of the river.

"I'll bet she's the first of her kind to have flown in a plane," said Burns, stroking her hand before tucking it again beneath the canvas.

"So what are we going to tell the Captain?" asked Julio. You know we can't keep her hidden forever—not with all these big windows in the laboratory."

Alex crossed his arms over his chest. "I gave it a lot of thought actually after I saw the boat, and I believe I've come up with a good plan."

"Oh?"

"We're going to hide her in plain sight."

In puzzlement the others all looked at him, except for Trakker, who snapped his fingers and chuckled. "Of course! The lion whose name is 'Tiger' is assumed to be a tiger."

"Matt, just because Bruce isn't here it doesn't mean you have to talk like that," groaned Julio.

"But first," said Sector, pulling out an equipment case. "Before I forget." He opened it up, revealing a dozen or so black rubber anklets. "Line up, chaps. Everyone gets a tracking device."

"For what?"

"In case Melusine starts feeling romantic again."

Burns sighed as the others pushed him to the front of the group. "Better give him two," teased Trakker.

The luckless agent gave Trakker a look as Sector pulled out on of the bands, thicker in the middle, and locked it around Burns' ankle. "T-Bob, record these for me."

The robot stepped up.

"Calhoun Burns, device number six, serial number 317-897-6."

"Got it."

"The guys are right. Better make it two. If any of us go missing it will probably be me."

Sector grinned up at him. "Stiff upper lip, lad," he said, reaching into the box to grab another anklet. "Calhoun Burns, device number nine, serial number 317-899-9."

-o-o-o-o-o-

The preparations for departure continued, Hayes heading into town with Márcia and Lopez to buy more groceries while Trakker and Kennedy sat a long time in the salon talking. T-Bob and Scott convinced Sector to let them try out his small boat. Privately the scientist had purchased a small boat and motor to use as a launch while on the trip. "Stay within eyesight," was his father's answer when Sector sent him up to the salon to ask permission. "I know you're wearing a tracking device, but no need for you two to go looking for adventure when we're about to set off on one."

"Thanks, Dad! We'll stay close."

Maria and Burns stayed behind on the boat, waiting for Melusine to wake. Lopez had been unsure of when the heavy sedative would wear off, not knowing how her ancient physiology would handle the drug. And in time she did wake, panicking at first, but then calming on seeing the two humans there, her mate and her friend. Immediately she threw her arms around Burns, soaking him to the skin and holding him tightly. Maria explained to her that the transport had been successful and that they were now 900 miles up the river from where they had been...or more simply—a month's worth of swimming for her.

At dusk the Red Sunset departed, the pilot taking the large ship out onto the Amazon. But the first leg of the cruise was not long. He took them to the strange border between the Rio Negro and the Rio Solimões, the Encontro das Águas, where for many miles the two flow side by side in the same bed, married together to create the Amazon. The clear black waters of the Guiana Highlands contrasted sharply with the sediment-laden waters coming from the Andes. Melusine, now awake and eager to taste the Mother River again, leapt into the river and swam between the two currents, looping back and forth between the stained current from the north and the latte-colored flow from the west. Maria was giggling again and tried to join the fishwoman, but the others held her back. But it wasn't long before the verdict was in. The Solimões River was the right one to follow.

"I guess we won't be seeing Paranari on this trip," remarked Trakker.

"A shame. I was wondering how the jungle there is recovering after being eaten down to nothing," sighed Sector.

"Another day."

"Perhaps a quick pop-in at the airstrip there on the way home?" he suggested hopefully.

Trakker laughed. "I think I could be convinced to make a small detour."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Burns made quick progress in recovering from his bout with malaria, spending his mornings lounging about the deck watching Melusine swim with the others, his afternoons napping beside the live well while Melusine slept there, his evenings hanging out with teammates, and his nights sleeping with his cabin door unlocked. His three caretakers came in at various hours of the night to check on him. Sometimes Lopez would come in for a nighttime check to find a trail of wet footprints leading to the bed and Melusine bent over her beloved, simply gazing down at him in the faint light. She would smile at the doctor and plod from the room, touching Lopez gently on her way out. A quiet splash would follow as she returned to her element. Melusine had a high degree of respect for Lopez, understanding completely his role as a healer, the healer that had saved her mate's life.

Trakker and his son took up one cabin, and Trakker's "office" took over another, allowing him to take his work on the road. When he wasn't answering emails or making phone calls or studying business reports, he would hang out with the others, drinking iced tea and putting his feet up. And with his usual air of mystery, he would swim alone at night if the boat was anchored, sometimes doing laps around the Red Sunset, sometimes floating silently at the surface. Melusine would watch after him, often touching his feet or the fins he wore, and often swimming beside him, nearly undetectable but always graceful and elegant. Next to Burns, she was his favorite of the men, thinking of him as somewhat amphibious as well.

Sector's scientific curiosity was piqued to extremes, and his immediate desire was to examine Melusine. It took some convincing, but eventually she agreed to examination after watching him handle other fish and river animals. But the condition was that Burns would be always present. It was soon discovered that it was best to let Burns do all of the touching, which she absolutely loved. In his hands she would bend and stretch and splay her fins and gills, smiling at him all the while. When Sector had compiled a huge volume of notes on her physical body he began to tax Maria with questions, gathering up all he could about her habits and diet and thoughts. Sometimes Melusine would lie in the live well, speaking though Maria to the men. Though occasionally things would take an awkward turn as Melusine began to kiss and adore her mate, unhindered by fins and claws and the need to wet her gills every ten to fifteen minutes. One session became quite difficult—Melusine had grown somewhat passionate and Burns had to hold her tightly to keep her "well-behaved." Eventually he had to go over to the live-well and stroke her skin to remind her of where her real body was. "A shame she can't possess Márcia," Sector had remarked at the end of the session with his wicked deadpan.

Lopez, having retired from two weeks of work at the clinic, took it easy. Tending to Burns took little time, so he enjoyed sunning himself, playing chess, and doing some reading. His Portuguese was quite good now, and he occasionally would take Alex's boat and the girls into the riverside towns to purchase fresh food.

Hayes, officially the ship's cook now, received the results of Lopez's food-gathering expeditions, and spent much of his time in the kitchen feeding the crew, Scott and T-Bob often serving as his scullery-slaves. Melusine provided fresh fish for him, brought in each morning in her net bag. And sometimes she would hang out in the galley watching him prepare meals. It wasn't long before he discovered that she liked cooked eggs, and Hayes kept some handy to prepare for her when she visited. He liked her and found her curiosity charming, even if he did have to get the mop out every time after she departed.

For Scott it was just one more escapade in another foreign place hanging onto his adventurous father's coattails. Though this time his father had given him a video camera with the instructions of "film everything—you'll always want to remember this trip." And so he had, recording everything; Sector hunting reptiles and insects and other fauna in the jungle, his father cleaning fish, Burns flirting with Melusine in the river, Márcia sunbathing topless on the observation deck, Lopez telling him to take his camera elsewhere, Hayes tossing pizza dough in the galley, and all of the other moments of daily life aboard the Red Sunset. He too took an interest in Melusine, much as he had with the Dinosaur Boy. Only she was better—more intelligent, more interactive. Swimming with her was exciting. While his father enjoyed slowly twisting through the water, Scott delighted in speed, and the faster she went the more he loved it. He held her tightly, clinging to her at the shoulders, their stomachs pressed together, his legs trailing in the water as she rocketed like a dolphin along the river. And sometimes those curious dolphins would chase them as they swam. He filmed her often, both on the boat and in the water, and sometimes he attended Sector's examinations of her in his makeshift laboratory, camera out and recording the work for the scientist.

Maria had the seventh cabin aboard the ship, having come on the journey without her grandfather, released into Lopez's custody. Apparently someone had offered the family a wad of cash for him not to come, explaining it as the money it would have cost to feed the lethargic but hungry old lump of a man. Maria had not minded and was usually hanging out wherever people were, playing quietly with her doll or braiding her hair. She soon was calling Lopez "Doctor Papa" and Márcia "Nurse Mama" affectionately. Often after dinner she would sit on Lopez's lap and he would read to her from a magazine. When she grew sleepy he would carry her down to her cabin and tuck her into her hammock to sleep. After a while T-Bob moved in with her because she said she always felt lonely at night, and the robot was good company, having the role of guardian and nanny and playmate to Scott so many years.

And as for the boat pilot, he soon got used to the strange passengers aboard the boat, Melusine included. Sector's disguise for her was both ingenious and devious. They had started by telling the captain they were the actors for a monster movie and gave him a good look at their monster. "Here's the zipper to the suit," said Burns, running his finger along one of Melusine's lateral lines. "You can't even see it. Best monster suit in Hollywood." The others stood about trying not to chuckle at the irony. "The suit's hot though and it will dry out. Mel has to spend a lot of time in the water to keep cool." And then he went on to introduce the others: Alex, the scientist studying the monster; Matt, the playboy sportsman who had fished up the creature in the first place; Dusty, the cook for the actors; Scott, the adorable little boy to whom the children in the audience could relate; Julio and Márcia; the local couple who were looking after the cast and crew; and himself as the handsome man who had been kidnapped by the monster but ended up falling in love with her.

But after a couple of days on the water, the pilot had begun to doubt the story. The film crew and director in a separate boat had failed to appear. And the actress playing the monster had never been seen out of her suit. And for that matter, how was she able to hold her breath so long when swimming in the river, and even sleep in the live well in the bottom of the boat, sometimes with her co-star lying on a towel on the floor beside the well. He finally decided that she was no actress in the best monster suit in Hollywood, when on waking one morning, he spied her perched on the rail at the back of the boat eating a whole catfish, innards and bones and all. The man supposed to be the scientist stood next to her watching her eat and taking notes.

He thought about it, and then decided to just keep his mouth shut. Obviously she was not a threat despite her strong physique and two-inch claws and mouth full of sharp teeth. Even the children played with her, and there did seem to be quite an intimacy between her and her supposed co-star.

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 16 : "Discoveries"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	16. Discoveries

**Chosen**

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 16 : Discoveries**

**Scott, standing nearby, noticed something odd regarding the visitors. "Dad, look at the marks on their backs. They're the same as Melusine's." The elder Trakker walked around to where Scott stood and looked. Sure enough, the skin of the natives was tattooed and over-painted with the same six eye-spots Melusine had on her upper back—black circles with variously colored centers.**

-o-o-o-o-o-

Sector placed a smear of Melusine's blood onto the scanner pad and started the computer working on it. Meanwhile Melusine had gone to lie in the live well, and had playfully tried to pull Burns in with her. The two were giggling and wrestling and sloshing water all over the floor of the laboratory. Sector though was completely engrossed in the data the computer was generating and couldn't care less. After a while Melusine let her mate go, and the sopping wet Burns became intrigued with what the scientist was finding so interesting. "Well?" he queried.

"Some unfortunate news for you Mr. Burns."

"About what?"

"Well, you might want to sit down for this, but have you and the missus considered adoption?"

Burns stared blankly, and then began laughing realizing that this was another of Sector's jokes. "I see."

"The DNA's completely different." He looked over at Burns, still keeping up his deadpan. "It seems your wife is a fish. No chance of any children."

"What?!" Burns gasped, playing along. "A fish!? She told me she was from Minnesota!"

"She could be...lot of lakes up there."

"Confluence ahead!" called Trakker, coming suddenly into the laboratory.

"Matt. Come look at this. I just did a DNA scan of Melusine. Fascinating."

"And?" He went to the computer.

"Turns out she's from Minnesota."

Trakker gave him the same blank stare that Burns had pulled out a moment before, but then began laughing.

"Hey, you stole my joke," grinned Burns.

Meanwhile Melusine had reached out from the live well and was pawing at her mate's ankles.

Trakker noted Melusine's playful behavior. "...And I think she's hungry. She'll be glad to get out."

"I'd better go get her some bars and hotdish," laughed Burns as he reached down to her to pull her out of the live well.

Trakker laughed along with him, but Sector didn't understand what was so funny. "A Minnesota joke," smirked Trakker on noticing the Englishman's puzzled look.

Hayes, piloting the boat while the hired man slept, stopped the Red Sunset and rang the bell. The group in the laboratory had moved to out to the stern deck, and Melusine, knowing the drill all too well now, dove into the water. Burns, wet already, stepped out of his water-mocs and peeled off his dripping shirt. Then he dove in after her. Before he'd even surfaced he felt Melusine's hand close around his wrist and pull him through the water. How different this was from the first time he'd gone overboard with her.

He held his breath, pinched his free arm at his side, and crossed his ankles to keep his legs together, streamlining himself to make her job easier. She was good about giving him opportunity to breathe and she brought him often to the surface. And after a while she let him go and he bobbed upwards. Melusine continued into the mouth of the tributary, her rapid movement just below the surface creating a wake above her.

And this time she went leaping from the water, arching her spine into her backwards dive, and disappearing again beneath the surface. They had seen her do that before, a sign of great joy and excitement.

Treading water where she had left him, Burns felt her huge hand again encircle his wrist as she swam past at high speed, nearly yanking his arm out of its socket as she headed for the boat. Normally she would tow him to the stern, but this time she abandoned him fifty feet from the Red Sunset. The next thing he saw was Melusine launching herself from the water and leaping to the second floor veranda where she hauled herself over the rail and burst into the pilot cabin. Anxiously, even desperately, she ran in front of Hayes and pointed eagerly at the tributary.

A translation from Maria was completely unnecessary.

Hayes rang the departure bell and Melusine tapped the handle of the throttle, making doubly sure Hayes understood. "I know! I know!" he said. "I just have to make sure everyone's on board before we leave." He stepped out of the cabin and immediately spotted Burns in the water just reaching the ladder at the prow. "Anyone else go for a swim too?" Hayes called to him.

"Just Melusine and I."

"Your girl's hopping around up here like a polecat chasing frogs. I think we've found the right river."

He took a walk around the veranda, scanning the water, Melusine on his heels. And satisfied that no one else had left the boat during the short stop, he ran the bell again and started up the engine. The fishwoman still hanging over his shoulder, he turned the boat up into the tributary, Melusine following every movement as if he might not have understood. And as the Red Sunset eased into new waters she hugged Hayes and kissed him on the cheek happily. And then she tapped her hand again on the throttle, encouraging him to go faster.

"Eager little beaver, aren't you?" Hayes chuckled and he pushed the cruising speed up a few knots.

Having noticed the abrupt change of course, Trakker and Sector came into the pilot cabin, passing Melusine as she left, most likely heading for the live well.

"Dusty, what's up?"

"Mrs. Burns insisted we go this way, and I think she would have thrown me overboard and driven the boat herself if I hadn't."

With that statement Sector was immediately bent over the chart studying what lay ahead on this new course.

"I guess we've found the right tributary then."

"Well it's not a large one, but it is interesting," announced Sector. "Lago Teresino is just ahead. And further upstream are Lagoa Preta and Lagoa Azevedo. There are four indigenous preserves along it and its own two tributaries. Three marked villages..."

"Will we be heading into Peru? I know we're not that far from the border."

"Nope. The rivers here parallel the Juruá and the Purus but don't extend as far as they do.

Trakker went over to look at the map for himself as Sector stroked his finger along the length of the blue line. "Lagoa Preta..." said Trakker quietly as he studied the indicated area. "There's a bit of irony."

-o-o-o-o-o-

The Red Sunset continued up the river, chugging along slowly through the night. And when daybreak came in golden splendor, Melusine was more active than ever. The hours seemed to pass by slowly for her, and she was constantly jumping in and out of the water. Normally she would swim with Burns or Scott at this time of the day, but currently she was preoccupied with the journey up this tributary. She was so excited she could barely lie down for her late-morning to mid-afternoon sleeping phase. And when she woke she was immediately out of the live well and into the water, diving off of the stern and heading rapidly upriver ahead of the Red Sunset.

A few more miles along the course and the Red Sunset was met by two dugout canoes, two men in full native array seated in each. They came up to the ship and boarded at the stern and were met by Sector, having spotted them from his laboratory. "Welcome, Gentlemen. How may I be of service," he greeted them politely.

The four men greeted him with an odd salute, crossing their wrists and letting their hands hang limply in front of them. "You speak English?" questioned the one who appeared to be their leader. He seemed fairly young, and his skin tone and eyes seemed somewhat lighter than those of the other men.

"Yes, and French if you prefer."

"We are here to inform you that you are entering the Lagoa Preta Cultural Protection District, and that travel by outsiders within the district is strictly controlled by local jurisdiction."

"I see," Sector responded, rather surprised at the big words and formality of the speech. "Well we were just heading up the river." A few of the others had come downstairs to look at the arrivals, the natives looking splendid in their feathered headdresses and painted skin and assorted weaponry. They had not come aboard unarmed—all four carried machetes, bows, and quivers of arrows. But beyond this, they were nearly naked save for their loincloths and a pair of shorts on one.

And on looking closer, Sector noticed that beneath the face paint, the leader of the party was definitely Caucasian. When questioned on this, the man laughed, the cold announcement falling to the wayside. "My name is Tom Delaney. My grandfather, Dr. Delaney, is the administrator of the Lagoa Preta project here."

"An American?"

"Yes, and my parents are American and Dutch. I just spend more time living with some of the local tribes here...my wife's a native girl."

"Would it be possible to meet with your grandfather? We're much interested in this project."

"I think so. He's at home now."

Two of the Indian men had been looking at the diving fins hanging on the wall, and now they talked to Tom in the local lingo. There seemed to be some interest in obtaining them, and they asked their leader to translate. "They want to know if you would trade for the fins. These fins are much desired by the men in this area for swimming," explained Tom.

Trakker came down the stairs and stood next to Sector. "Tell them they are welcome to those two pairs. Consider them a goodwill gift from us."

"They will trade. We do have some things of value here to tourists."

Trakker waved his hand. "No need. We've got other pairs for our use."

"Are you certain?"

Trakker nodded.

Tom translated to the men, who were very excited. Trakker went to the wall and took down the two pairs of fins and placed them into the men's hands. They nodded repeatedly and thanked him, and then they insisted on giving Trakker one of the bows and its quiver.

Scott, standing nearby, noticed something odd regarding the visitors. "Dad, look at the marks on their backs. They're the same as Melusine's." The elder Trakker walked around to where Scott stood and looked. Sure enough, the skin of the natives was tattooed and over-painted with the same six eye-spots Melusine had on her upper back—black circles with variously colored centers.

"Mr. Delaney," Trakker addressed the young man, "What are these markings?"

"Oh? Those?" He turned his head hard and hunched his shoulder forward to look at his own. "Those are just a tribal marking here. Men who have proven themselves responsible members of the tribe are allowed to wear them."

"And what do they represent?" queried Sector.

Tom looked a tad uneasy, but then smiled. "They're the fingerprints of the River God. They symbolize the connection of the people to the river."

"Fascinating," replied Sector, shooting Trakker a look.

"I see you have a small boat there," Tom said, quickly changing the subject. "You can follow us up the river to the houses. My grandfather's there and so is the Protection District headquarters. It's best to leave this big boat here for now."

"Certainly."

The men thanked Trakker again for the exchange of gifts, and the four locals clambered back into their canoes and began to paddle upriver.

As the men left, Trakker and Sector pulled the motorboat up to the stern for boarding. "Those markings, Alex. We're so close," he said breathlessly. "I wouldn't be surprised if Melusine is already home."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Sector and Trakker followed the canoes in Sector's boat through the curves of the river. Here the land was so flat every five miles on the water amounted to only one or two as the crow flies. In half an hour they reached a wide sandy bend where the land behind it had been cleared of trees. Several buildings on tall stilts sat in the cleared area around which grew grassy lawns and kitchen gardens. Several goats, attended by a young native boy, grazed without concern. Chickens ran free. A large sign at the riverside proclaimed "Lagoa Preta Cultural Protection District Headquarters" in Portuguese, Spanish, English and French, announcing that this area was a step beyond the usual indigenous preserves peppering the Amazon basin. On the far side of the sandy area the river appeared to widen into a large lake studded with islets.

The two canoes beached on the sandy area and the men got out. Sector and Trakker followed suit. Tom ran ahead to one of the buildings while the three others escorted the newcomers to a large gazebo where they sat and waited. Tom soon returned, an older man in his company. "Gentlemen, I welcome you to Lagoa Preta. How may I be of service?" asked the older man quite genially as he entered and leaned on his cane.

"Are you Dr. Delaney, the administrator?"

"I am. I see you have some awareness of the project?"

Trakker went easily into diplomat mode. "Your grandson has given us some information and told us that travel is restricted beyond this point. Doctor, I'm Matt Trakker." He held out his hand in greeting and Dr. Delaney shook it. "My foundation holds the Paranari Protection and Sustainable Development Grant up along the Rio Negro."

"Ah, so as another grantee, you can understand the importance of what I'm about to ask you. The area beyond this point is sacred to three local tribes and it is their unanimous wish that outsiders do not proceed unescorted past here." The geniality had given way to business.

Trakker nodded. "Completely. I won't ask for the self-guiding tour in that case," he said lightly.

"What brings you to this part of Amazonia, Mr. Trakker?" Delaney asked.

"Oh, just a little jungle cruise to see some areas of the basin we haven't before." He gestured at Sector. "Dr. Sector here is studying some of the larger fish up in the northern areas and their interrelations with the riparian populations," he said

Delaney's eyes suddenly brightened and much of his defensive stance disappeared. "A fellow ichthyologist. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." He extended his hand to Sector.

"A pleasure to meet you as well," smiled Sector, knowing full well what Trakker was leading the old man into.

"Dr. Delaney, would it be permissible for us to anchor here for the night before we turn around and head back downstream? Perhaps we could invite you over for supper. We do have a fantastic cook aboard our boat."

"And I have been saving that bottle of gin for a special occasion," added Sector, speaking to Trakker but with the comment aimed at the doctor to sweeten the invitation.

"Gin?" The man's eyes lit up again. "I've not had gin for at least a decade."

"Well then, you'll have to join us and we'll make it a special occasion. There's tonic to go with it as well."

"I think I've been persuaded to join you," laughed Dr. Delaney. "I'll bring the limes."

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 17: Lagoa Preta**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	17. Lagoa Preta

**Chosen**

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 17: Lagoa Preta**

-o-o-o-o-o-

Dinner was indeed a special occasion. Dusty set up a buffet on the side table of the salon, and everyone helped themselves to pizza, grilled fish, grilled squash, green salad, and seasoned rice. Dr. Delaney came with his son, Virgil Delaney, his son's Dutch wife, and their three children. To Maria's and Scott's delight, the two youngest children were twelve and nine, and the four soon became fast friends and ended up leaving early to go over to the houses to play.

The evening passed pleasantly and there was much talk at the tables. Trakker and Sector listened carefully for any hint in the conversation about the fishpeople, but found none. But that was of little consequence, for soon the fishpeople were about to make their own entrance.

There was much splashing outside the boat, and then came the sound of footsteps on the stairs...heavy footsteps.

If it had been a horror movie, everyone would have screamed and knocked over their chairs in a mad panic to get away. The buffet would have tumbled over and someone would have drawn a gun.

But no one screamed. The only noises were a few gasps of astonishment and the melody playing on the ancient stereo. Melusine and two taller fishmen stood in the open doorway of the salon, dripping and looking in.

Burns rose first, and Melusine beckoned him forward. As everyone watched he went to her, where she wrapped her arm around his shoulders happily, but also somewhat possessively. The two creatures beside her reached in to touch him gently, studying him closely. The rest of the people present all sat in silence, staring at each other and at the three new arrivals.

One of the fishmen standing beside her, a creature nearly seven feet in height and muscled like an Olympian dream, then looked at the Delaneys and began croaking and clicking at them.

To everyone's further shock, Tom Delaney stood and began to croak and click back to him in the same inhuman language. Melusine jumped in and spoke with them as well. From her gestures she appeared to be introducing Burns to the fishmen and then the Delaneys. Old Dr. Delaney rose and spoke back to her in the same guttural language.

And then he looked over at Trakker. "Mr. Trakker, Dr. Sector, I think at this point it is safe to assume that you and I have been hiding quite a bit from each other. Shall we dispose with the secrets and cut to the chase?"

Trakker nodded. "I think that would be most prudent. I'd like to know what other cultures you're protecting here besides those of the four indigenous tribes you've told us about."

"And likewise, I'd like to know how it is that your associate has come into the acquaintance of one of our...shall we say...our locals."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Trakker, Sector, and Dr. Delaney went up to the observation deck and sat at the smaller table, and from their vantage point they could see the Lagoa Preta stretching far into the distance.

"As requested, I'll cut straight to the chase, Doctor," said Trakker, setting down his gin and tonic and leaning back comfortably into his chair. "My associates and I were undertaking a salvage operation for the PNA near Macapá when we first encountered the fishwoman. Mr. Burns—Calhoun—was operating a small submarine when it became trapped in some underwater debris. While he was waiting to be rescued, she found him and seemed to have developed quite an attachment to him in just that short time."

"Ah," Dr. Delaney chuckled. "A submarine. She mentioned some 'water-beetle boat' and now it makes sense. She called him 'the Beetle-Guide' and now I understand why."

"Yes. We ran into some difficulties in the operation, but were able to enlist her help by means of Maria, the little girl with us."

"The girl has a psychic connection?"

Sector's eyes widened. "You know of the connection?"

"Most of the men-of-water have this psychic ability, but please, go on with your story."

Trakker took a sip of his drink and set it back down onto the table. "Well, we were able to enlist her help, for which I offered her payment. And she decided to take Calhoun as payment once the job was completed."

"She did!? What did she do?"

"Kidnapped him and kept him hidden from us for over two weeks, until we were finally able to locate and rescue him. But at this point we understood her situation and her history and so we were able to make a deal with her."

Sector continued. "According to what Maria had told us, the River Princess—her name for the fishwoman—had been dragged far downstream by a boat. We offered to take her back upriver to find her home if she would relinquish her mate."

"And so you have found it. And yes, that is how Empty Sky's second child was lost some years ago. He was the older of the two men that arrived with her tonight."

"How long ago?"

The old man paused, looking up into the canopy. "Hmmm...twenty, twenty-five years ago maybe. I'd have to look it up. It would be in my journals.

"She's been excited since we turned off of the Amazon yesterday and onto this tributary. We knew her home had to be close by."

"So, those two fishmen with her, they are her relatives," said Trakker.

Delaney nodded. "Her father, Empty Sky, and her brother, Cold Rain. We all thought she had been lost forever."

"Interesting names."

"Well, that's what they translate to. The sounds are all croaks and clicks, which you wouldn't understand. Her clan all uses sky names. Ironic really."

"It is. The little girl with us, Maria, always calls her the River Princess or the fishwoman. Calhoun named her Melusine after she kidnapped him. But what is she called here?"

"Pink Sky."

"There's a pretty image," said Trakker.

"So please Dr. Delaney. Tell us about your involvement with these men-of-water. How did you come to be involved with them?" asked Alex.

Delaney sighed. "I came here forty-two years ago, a young scientist with a brand new doctorate in my hand and big dreams of making some huge discovery that would astound and change the world. A friend of mine had turned up a mummified four-fingered hand of strange proportions while on an anthropological expedition about a hundred miles from here. The hand was a ritual object for a shaman of the tribe he was studying. While he couldn't send the hand itself, he sent me plenty of documentation and photos. I'm sure you can guess what the hand originally belonged to."

"Of course."

"I came down here ready to find the missing link and go home with a Nobel Prize." The doctor sighed. "I'll spare you the long story of my failures and the tragedy I encountered here. And I cursed it at the time, long ago when I was an impatient young man. But I realize now that I would have made a horrible mistake had I succeeded. Forgive the cliché, but man was not ready then, and still is not ready today, for the existence of another sentient race sharing their planet.

He leaned forward at this point. "They're a beautiful race of people. They value grace and strength and loyalty above all else. On the downside, they can be aggressive and fiercely territorial. If they feel they have been intruded upon, expect trouble."

Trakker's hand went to his shoulder, his hand stroking the spot where Melusine had taught him this lesson first hand. It had healed over, but he knew he would be feeling the wounds for quite some time.

"But if you're on their good side, you'll find them very generous and loving and overly eager to please."

"And how long have they been here?"

"Millions of years. We've theorized that their ancient ancestors lived in the great lake that once covered this continent. But then as the South American plate tilted and the lake drained they became river dwellers, evolving from advanced fish into men. But their species has been in decline and this may be their final population here, these three tribes. I've watched for evidence of them elsewhere, and they have no memory of other groups outside of their area."

"I see."

"Tomorrow, I'll take you out on a tour of the area, and I'll show you my workshop. You'll find it particularly interesting, Dr. Sector."

"Please, call me Alex, and I'd love to see it. I've been studying Melusine—Pink Sky—ever since we left Manaus and I feel like there's so much more to learn about her.

"I suspected you had, and you're welcome to learn all you wish. With the way our own race is destroying the world, these people may soon become extinct, and another record of their existence would be of great value to future generations. However, until their presence needs to be revealed, I must ask you for complete secrecy regarding the very same.

Sector nodded. "Of course."

-o-o-o-o-o-

The next morning, after the others had gone of with Dr. Delaney on a tour of Lagoa Preta, Burns, Lopez, and Tom Delaney went out to one of the islets within the huge sprawling lagoon. With them were Melusine and also Orchid, Tom's fishwoman wife. "We were married at thirteen, in secret because I didn't want my parents to say no. None of us had married a local before and I was the first," he told them.

"Thirteen?" Burns choked. "You wanted to get married at thirteen?"

"Young marriages are common enough here, especially when it's cross-species since biology isn't really a factor. Intermarriage with the fishpeople is either for love or for politics."

"Politics? What politics?" Lopez questioned.

Tom chuckled, seemingly far older than his twenty-two years. "There are four human tribes whose territory borders Lagoa Preta. And in the lagoon are three distinct groups of fishmen, and within each group are several clans. So there's a lot of politics in paradise. My grandfather spends half his time trying to keep the peace here, and mostly it's through his efforts that there isn't open warfare. The intermarriage helps a lot though."

"So did you marry for political reasons, trying to do your part?"

Tom shook his head with another chuckle. "I married my best friend. But, as it turned out, she's the daughter of a clan chief, like Pink Sky. Here, I'll call her." He focused on the water, and soon she came out onto the sandy beach, giving the two agents their first good look at the youngest Mrs. Delaney. Her colors were different from Melusine's, her scales being brownish but her fins and eyespots a rosy lavender. Her stripes and markings were dark purple. Like Melusine, Orchid was taller and far more muscular than her mate, and like Melusine, she loved him dearly. She walked up to Tom and kissed him enthusiastically before leading him into the water to swim with her.

Burns and Lopez watched him play with the two fishwomen, a game of "keep-away" with a stick as the desired object. And after a while, Melusine came out of the water and drew them down to join in the fun. Before the long the men had the stick and turned the tables on the two ladies.

When worn out, the three humans went back up onto the islet and unpacked the lunch Hayes had sent with them, and they were delighted to find leftover pizza from the night before, pasta salad, and bottles of cola. Meanwhile Melusine and Orchid watched them from the water, sometimes flinging nutshells at them playfully.

Halfway through the meal, Tom suddenly paused and his eyes got the same faraway look in them that Maria sometimes got when talking to Melusine. The others paused and watched quietly on recognizing the look.

"Calhoun..." said Tom gently.

"Yes?"

"Pink Sky...Melusine...has requested that the Ceremony of Rain be performed," he said.

"The Ceremony of Rain?" Lopez asked

"Yes... an important ceremony for the people of Lagoa Preta."

"A ceremony for what?"

"A wedding ceremony, between a man-of-land and a woman-of-water, or vice-versa. When there is a heavy rain, it is thought of as the mixing of water and air—a state of both substances—a mingling of the water and air."

"I see. But...I'm leaving. I'm not staying here in Brazil. She knows this. If she thinks marrying her will make me stay, she's only deluding herself," Burns said as he shook his head. "We brought her here so I could go home to the States."

"Yes. She knows that. And that's when she requested the ceremony." Tom set down his fork and walked into the water where Orchid and Melusine rose to meet him. Burns followed the young man.

"Actually it's quite the opposite. She accepts that you are leaving, but wants the ceremony as a final statement of her love for you...and of yours for her."

Burns sighed. "I see...but why?"

Melusine let go of Orchid and clung to her mate instead.

"Calhoun, Pink Sky loves you dearly, and she wants to always be reminded of that love, even though she has returned to her own kind. And even though tomorrow she will be married to a man-of-water from her own tribe, she still wants this ceremony with you."

"What?!" She's already hooking up with one of her own kind?"

"An arranged marriage...one that should have taken place years ago. As a daughter of a clan chief she was engaged at a very early age to another man-of-water."

"So she wants to marry me? And then tomorrow it's off to marry someone else?"

Tom put his hand on Burns' shoulder. "I know this all seems so strange for you. But because of her lost time, they want to hurry. And also you got her all...well...into her breeding colors. Her body is very ready to turn out a clutch of eggs. The men-of-water won't let this opportunity go to waste."

"It all comes down to sex in the end, doesn't it."

"Biology...the great ruler over us," said Lopez, having come down to the water to be in on the conversation himself.

Burns sighed. "How long do I have to think about this?"

"Not long because of the wedding tomorrow. If you will agree, and I highly recommend you do, the ceremony will be performed at sunset tonight.

"Tonight? All right. Let me think about it a bit first."

Tom nodded. "When you decide let me know or send word to the house." He left the water and went back up the beach to finish his lunch.

Burns turned immediately to Lopez. "Julio, what am I going to do?" he whispered. Melusine was pressing her cheek to his, and Orchid had followed after Tom.

"I guess you and I are in the same situation. We both have a girl down here that wants to marry us."

"Hey, but at least you could take yours home to meet your family. Me? It would be like: 'Fill up the bathtub—I'm bringing the fish home with me...oh, and could we have raw salmon for Thanksgiving instead of turkey? It just wouldn't work."

Lopez chuckled. "I see your point." He stretched his arms over his head and looked out over the water. "Tom thought it would be a good idea, even though it is just a temporary thing."

"It seems kinda pointless if it's just for one night. I mean, why bother?"

"Why not bother?" He reached out to touch Melusine's face, eliciting a smile from her. "Get married, give her something to remember, and go home and forget it all happened."

Burns sighed. "Just like I wanted to in the first place." He looked back at the boat. "But I just couldn't avoid it. Fate decided we were to be together." He put his arm around Melusine's waist, suddenly feeling emotionally very close to her

Lopez patted his fellow agent on the shoulder. "I know. But maybe this would bring some sort of closure to the whole matter."

"That would be nice."

"I'll be your best man if you'd like."

Burns looked over at him. They had become pretty close since his rescue. "You really think I should?"

Lopez nodded. "It would be a good ending to this little adventure."

"All right. I'll do it." And then he gave Lopez a bit of a wicked grin. "But now you'll have to marry Márcia and take her home with you."

Lopez rolled his eyes. "We'll see."

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 18: "For Love or For Politics"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


	18. For Love or For Politics

**Chosen**

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 18: For Love or For Politics**

-o-o-o-o-o-

In the late afternoon, Tom Delaney came to the Red Sunset in his canoe to fetch Burns, who like any groom appeared to be a mix of emotions and nervousness. But all parties involved had reassured him the outcome of the evening ceremony would be nothing but positive, and Sector had double-checked the homing signal on his anklets...just in case. All he had to do if things went wrong was to push the tiny recessed button on the side and they would drop everything and come for him.

Orchid sat in the boat as well, and as they went she took out some paints and carefully drew eyespots across Burns' back, filling their centers with red. Then she turned him around and painted his face with the same patterns her husband wore. And while Burns took over the paddle, Orchid touched up Tom's facepaint and shoulder spots.

At sunset Trakker and Sector were picked up by Dr. Delaney and his son in a small motorboat, and Scott, Maria, Hayes, and Lopez crowded into Alex's boat. The parties went out onto the vast lagoon, following the northern shore

"So what happens at this ceremony?" Trakker asked.

"Not much really," said the eldest of the Delaneys. "A shaman from one of the tribes presides over the ceremony, and basically recites a bit of local history, and then they're considered married."

"That's it?"

"Simple and to the point," said Dr. Delaney.

"It's the story of the first marriage between the men-of-water and the men-of-land," said Virgil. "It tells the tale of when a great flood came in a time of war between the two species. The men-of-land were losing as the waters rose and drowned everything, and they feared they would perish. They tossed sacrificial victims to the men-of-water in hopes of saving themselves, and the fishmen ate them. But then one of the men-of-water did not eat the victim given to him, and instead he took her away and fell in love with her. He found he could communicate with her and made her his wife. Together they stopped the war between their people and formed an alliance between the two. No more would they seek to destroy each other, no more would they eat the flesh of each other, and there would be intermarriage to remind themselves of the union between them."

"And did this actually happen?" queried Trakker.

"Who knows? But it's a good explanation for how the men-of-land and men-of-water began the intermarriage," chuckled the doctor.

"The story is pre-Columbian at least, but there's a good chance it's an ancient legend from the time of a deluge," offered Virgil.

"Reminds me of so many tales about Selkies or mermaids," commented Sector. "Will I be allowed to take pictures?"

"You may, but just stay in the water, and again I remind you of the need for discretion in your use of those pictures. I've spent the past four decades trying to hide these people from the world and would not want my work undone carelessly."

"Of course. You have my assurances."

About two miles up the northern shore the boats came to a small bay nearly hidden by an island. There, the water was unusually clear, rather shallow, and sandy on the bottom. On the shore of the bay stood a row of seven tree-trunks placed into the sand in a slight arc, each painted with unknown symbols. A few humans were sitting about on the shore, and as the boats arrived, they stood and greeted the arrivals with the limp-wrist gesture. Looking down, the newcomers found the water full of fishmen, who stood up from the bottom to also greet the arrivals.

"I'll let you know what to do," said Tom, taking the boat to the edge of the water. "Just let me guide you through."

"You know what's going on," said Burns, still a little apprehensive at having convinced himself to go through with this. But as told before, it was only for one night, and then Melusine would be married off to her childhood fiancee and would start her life anew with her own kind. He reached up and fingered his necklace of snail shells.

Tom and Burns left the canoe as one of the Indian men, this one painted and feathered and decorated from head to toe, came forth and stood with them.

"The ceremony begins now," said Tom.

The shaman took Burns' hand and raised it into the air. A single drummer began to strike the large primitive drum postitioned between his feet. And then the shaman began to recite. After some time Melusine came out of the water wearing a crown of waterlilies and joined him, standing at his side with her hand curled around his.

The rest of the team watched from the boats, except for Sector who had gotten out into the waist-deep water and was unobtrusively taking pictures. Several fishwomen had gathered around and were touching him. He tried to ignore them, but their curiosity became somewhat distracting when the two boldest ones began to stroke his hair and beard.

The Delaneys noticed Sector's plight and only smiled. "That bright red hair and bald pate of his attracts them," came the explanation to Trakker. "To them, it looks like he's in breeding colors."

The ceremony continued, the shaman telling the story as it had been handed down from generations of ancestors. And eventually another fishwoman came from the water, Tom's wife Orchid in fact, and placed a crown of waterlilies on Burns' head.

"Congratulations. You're now a married man," whispered Tom.

"Do I kiss the?"

"Just hug her, and then go to the water with her."

He did, and beaming, Melusine pulled her man-of-land down the shore. After ducking herself, she presented him first to Empty Sky and her three brothers, and then to the rest of her kind. The gathered attendees applauded by striking the water with their hands. And then the pair waded out to the boats and Tom presented the couple to the guests in them. Alex waded over and snapped their picture together, the fishwomen following him.

"So now what happens?" asked Burns.

"Oh, just a private wedding night for you two. Her family will take you somewhere to be together. It's just for a night though."

"So I guess I'll be home in the morning," said Burns, blushing a little. So much for keeping his love life a secret from the rest of the team.

"Most likely," said Tom. "C'mon. We'll put you two in the canoe." He took Burns and Melusine by their hands and led him to the shore where his dugout waited. Around them the fishmen swam, croaking and smiling and seemingly wishing the pair well.

The three climbed in and Melusine's family took the boat away, pushing it out of the shallow bay. Burns waved a goodbye to the others and they all waved back.

Tom, not needing his paddle as the fishmen were propelling the boat, shuffled up behind Burns. The small craft was picking up speed as it entered the open water of the lake. "My dad told me I had to give you that little talk. You know...birds and bees. Or as we say here, 'what to do when it rains,' if you know what I mean."

Sector placed his camera up into the motorboat and went to flop himself over the edge as well, but two of the fishwomen held onto him. "Please ladies. You're not helping."

The Delaneys chuckled. "They're hoping you'll stay with them."

Sector blinked. "I'm flattered, but..."

"They like your red hair," said Mr. Delaney.

"I figured that. They can't seem to keep their hands out of it. Is it because I look like a curupira? That's what I usually get mistaken for in Amazonia."

"Actually, they think you're in breeding colors. They're thinking about...other things," explained Dr. Delaney, trying to be tactful.

"Oh," Sector said, somewhat surprised at the reason. "Well."

"So if you'd like to pursue your investigation of the fishfolk on, shall we say, a more personal level, these ladies are quite willing to assist,"

Sector looked quickly to Trakker, who was stifling a snicker. "Your choice. Might not get another opportunity like this again," he said, trying to keep his composure.

Sector looked again at the two fishwomen holding onto him, both smiling at him, both in breeding colors themselves. One wore the same rusty shades as Melusine, and the other had more of a greenish skintone with lurid blue markings. "Well, when in Rome..."

-o-o-o-o-o-

The boats returned to the Lagoa Preta headquarters and the Red Sunset and the wedding guests all dispersed. Hayes and Trakker lingered at the stern to secure Sector's boat. Hayes sighed. "Always a bridesmaid...never a bride." He pretended to sob like a lonely woman with a rapidly ticking biological clock.

"There, there," said Trakker, patting him on the shoulder in mock sympathy. "Someday your monster will come and take you away from all this."

"Julio has Márcia. Cal has Melusine. Alex is off doing God knows what with two of those fishwomen. Scott and Maria are off with Dr. Delaney's grandchildren. What have we got?"

Trakker thought a moment. "The rest of Alex's bottle of gin? I know where he hid it."

"Good enough for me."

-o-o-o-o-o-

At dawn Trakker again sat atop the observation deck staring out across the lake, sipping reheated coffee, found left in the pot from the previous night. The sky was gearing up for a glorious sunrise, a pink glow touching the undersides of the clouds in the east. And at some point he noticed a small disturbance in the water. Something was moving across the surface of the water toward the Red Sunset. As it came closer, he rose to look, and realized it was Alex, half-swimming, half being dragged by the two fishwomen he had left with the night before. Trakker tapped down the two sets of stairs to the stern deck.

Sector managed to grab onto the ladder and haul himself up to the deck. The two fishwomen followed, and Trakker greeted them with the gesture of the folded wrists. The two smiled and folded theirs in return, and then they embraced Sector affectionately and kissed him and dove back into the inky waters.

Sector caught onto one of the deck supports to hold himself up, and then began to stagger toward his cabin.

"You look like something the catfish dragged in," smirked Trakker.

"I feel like something the catfish ate and spat up. I'm exhausted. I'm water-logged. I hurt in a thousand places."

Trakker opened the door to Sector's cabin and they entered, Sector immediately slumping into a chair. And then he grinned. "One of the best nights of my life."

Trakker shook his head as he began to undo the buttons on Sector's sopping linen shirt. "Pervert," he teased. "We'll get you to bed and you can just sleep all day."

"I can't think of anything I'd like more right now." He weakly pulled his arms from the sleeves.

Trakker gasped as the shirt came off. "Alex, what did they do to you? Look at these marks! You've got more welts than a masochist at a torturers' convention." Burns had sported a number of similar scratches and red streaks from Melusine's claws, but Sector's torso was marked far worse, particularly on his back and shoulders.

"The ladies were rather enthusiastic," he said coolly. "You should have come with me."

"Get the rest of your clothes off and get into bed. I'm going to go find something to put on those. You look awful."

Trakker departed and went up to the salon where the first aid kit was attached to the wall. Opening it he soon found an antibiotic cream. "No more sleeping with the fish for you, old boy," he mused.

On returning to Sector's cabin, he found the man in bed, lying on his stomach, hurriedly writing in his notebook, sentence after sentence escaping from the pen.

"I found some antibiotic ointment," he said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and breaking the seal on the tube.

Sector winced at the sting of the antiseptic effect of the ointment but kept writing as Trakker saw to the scratches. And then he closed the journal, pushed it aside, and put his head on the pillow. "I hope we're leaving today. I don't think I could survive another night with those women, but I don't think I could say no if they came looking for me."

Trakker chuckled. "I'm not sure if we are. Apparently Melusine's getting married again tonight. This time to her man-of-water. I'll have to find out what the proper protocol is from Dr. Delaney on if the man-of-land should be present or not."

Sector yawned. "Such a strange culture. I don't know of anywhere else in the world that has this sort of arrangement." His words trailed off as he closed his eyes. He rolled onto his back so Trakker could rub the antibiotic cream into the scratches on his chest.

Trakker soon finished up treating the wounds and then closed the cabin's curtains to block out the brilliant golden sunrise. Sector was already asleep and breathing heavily. He'd have Lopez check him over later to make sure none needed more serious attention.

"The things you do in the name of science," he whispered with a grin and left.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Burns heard the whispers, the soft, gentle sounds of a man and a woman talking, whispers interspersed with snatches of songs he did not know. The visions were of swimming fish and fluttering fins, of waterlilies floating above him, of a single cream-colored bloom with a pink blush held in his hands. He felt as if he were being touched, as if fingers were pressing against his skin.

The water surrounding him was like warm air, and he could lie perfectly still for an eternity, peacefully watching the sunlight stream down through the branches and lily pads above him. Tiny fish and fat tadpoles darted through the water, either in schools or alone. And all the while there were voices, sweet and soft and comforting to hear.

And then he opened his eyes to find himself lying on the beach, He was exactly where he had eventually dragged himself out of the water to after exhausting himself with his bride. The whispers were gone and now he only heard the gentle swish of the wind in the trees and the calling of the birds. He smiled up at the sunshine before forcing himself to stand. His clothes were where he had left them hung over a bush. He dressed, and just as he was finishing doing up the buttons on his shirt Melusine came up from the water. Another man-of-water emerged from the lagoon behind her, this one a male of her own coloration. He was tall and handsome and as well muscled as she was, though his skin was somewhat darker than hers. The yellow membranes of his fins were edged in crimson. The eye-spots on his back and shoulders were filled in with the same red.

"Beetle-Guide!" Melusine smiled at him. And he paused. Had she actually spoken? Or had he imagined it?

He embraced Melusine and she pushed her lips to his, kissing him happily. And to his surprise the male embraced him and kissed him as well, just as Melusine had. Before he could react, they took his hands and led him down to the water.

After a couple of miles on the Lagoa Preta the Red Sunset came into view. The fishman stayed in the water but Burns and Melusine climbed aboard. For a while they stood together, Melusine holding tightly to her man-of-land, afraid to let go of him but knowing the moment could not last. After a while she went and lay in the live-well, and then went to his cabin and stood for a while studying his nest, touching his few things and stroking her hand over his bed.

Eventually she returned, dipping herself in the live-well again, and then embraced Burns one last time, holding him tightly and running her webbed hands over his body and through his cinnamon colored hair, trying desperately to impress everything about him indelibly into her memories. As the time for her to douse herself again approached, the male came up onto the boat and placed his hand on her shoulder.

Melusine kissed Burns one last time, the male standing behind her with his hands upon her waist. Then together the two creatures dove into the cloudy waters and swam away, Melusine giving her mate a parting glance before diving the final time beneath the river surface.

And suddenly he realized that the fishman with Melusine was to be her new husband, the man to whom she had been long ago betrothed. And he laughed to himself. How could these people live without jealousy? There had been none—only love for both his bride-to-be and the man she had married the night before.

"Goodbye my Beetle-Guide," came the whispers again, and again he wondered if he was hearing things or if once more he had simply imagined it.

Burns watched the surface of the great lagoon for a while and then staggered up to the galley, slumping down into one of the counter chairs. Hayes, having just recently come in to start breakfast, pushed a hot cup of coffee across the counter to him. "A good night?"

"It was." Burns sighed and swivelled the kitchen stool to look through the window and across the watery landscape. "It was all so strange, this whole experience here in the Amazon. At first I wanted to deny she existed, and then I wanted nothing to do with her. And now I think I'm going to miss her."

"Ever fall in love before?"

Startled by the question, Burns looked at Hayes warily. "I don't think I was in love with her."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Oh, hey," Hayes leaned conspiratorially on the counter. "Alex went home with two of those fishwomen last night, right after you and Melusine left. And it wasn't to go hunting for lizards."

Burns looked at him across the top of his coffee mug. "Really?"

"Really."

And then Burns smirked and took another sip. "I guess I'm not the only one around here with odd tastes in women."

-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chosen continues in Chapter 19: "Homecoming"**

-o-o-o-o-o-

M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)

-o-o-o-o-o-


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